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Professor  Raymond’s  System  of  COMPARATIVE  /ESTHETICS 

I.  — Art  in  Theory.  S°,  cloth  extra  ......  $1.75 

“ Scores  an  advance  upon  the  many  art-criticisms  extant.  . . . Twenty  brilliant  chap- 
ters, pregnant  with  suggestion.” — Popular  Science  Monthly. 

“A  well  grounded,  thoroughly  supported,  and  entirely  artistic  conception  of  art  that  will 
lead  observers  to  distrust  the  charlatanism  that  imposes  an  idle  and  superficial  mannerism 
upon  the  public  in  place  of  true  beauty  and  honest  workmanship.” — The  New  York 
Times . 

“His  style  is  good,  and  his  logic  sound,  and  ...  of  the  greatest  possible  service  to  the 
student  of  artistic  theories.” — Art  Journal  (London). 

II.  — The  Representative  Significance  of  Form.  8°,  cloth  extra.  $2.00 

“A  valuable  essay.  . , . Professor  Raymond  goes  so  deep  into  causes  as  to  explore  the 
subconscious  and  the  unconscious  mind  for  a solution  of  his  problems,  and  eloquently  to 
range  through  the  conceptions  of  religion,  science  and  metaphysics  in  order  to  find  fixed 
principles  of  taste.  . . . A highly  interesting  discussion.” — The  Scotsman  (Edinburgh). 

41  Evidently  the  ripe  fruit  of  years  of  patient  and  exhaustive  study  on  the  part  of  a man 
singularly  fitted  for  his  task.  It  is  profound  in  insight,  searching  in  analysis,  broad  in 
spirit,  and  thoroughly  modern  in  method  and  sympathy.” — The  Universalist  Leader. 

44  Its  title  gives  no  intimation  to  the  general  reader  of  its  attractiveness  for  him,  or  to 
curious  readers  of  its  widely  discursive  range  of  interest.  . . . Its  broad  range  may  re- 

mind one  of  those  scythe-bearing  chariots  with  which  the  ancient  Persians  used  to  mow 
down  hostile  files.” — The  Outlook. 

III.  — Poetry  as  a Representative  Art.  8°,  cloth  extra  . $1.75 

44  I have  read  it  with  pleasure,  and  a sense  of  instruction  on  many  points.” — Francis 
Turner  Palgrave,  Professor  of  Poetry , Oxford  University . 

44  Dieses  ganz  vortreffliche  Werk.” — Englische  Studien , Universitdt  Breslau. 

“An  acute,  interesting,  and  brilliant  piece  of  work.  . . . As  a whole  the  essay  deserves 
unqualified  praise.” — IV.  V.  hidependent. 

IV. — Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architecture  as  Representative  Arts. 

With  225  illustrations.  8°  .....  $2.50 

41  The  artist  will  find  in  it  a wealth  of  profound  and  varied  learning  ; of  original,  sugges- 
tive, helpful  thought  . . . of  absolutely  inestimable  value.” — The  Looker-on. 

“Expression  by  means  of  extension  or  size,  . . . shape,  . . . regularity  in  outlines 
. . . the  human  body  . . . posture,  gesture,  and  movement,  . . . are  all  considered 
...  A specially  interesting  chapter  is  the  one  on  color.” — Current  Literature . 

44  The  whole  book  is  the  work  of  a man  of  exceptional  thoughtfulness,  who  says  what 
he  has  to  say  in  a remarkably  lucid  and  direct  manner.” — Philadelphia  Press. 

V.  — The  Genesis  of  Art  Form.  Fully  illustrated.  8°  . . $2.25 

44  In  a spirit  at  once  scientific  and  that  of  the  true  artist,  he  pierces  through  the  mani- 
festations of  art  to  their  sources,  and  shows  the  relations  intimate  and  essential,  between 
painting,  sculpture,  poetry,  music,  and  architecture.  A book  that  possesses  not  only  sin- 
gular value,  but  singular  charm.” — IV.  Y.  Tunes. 

“A  help  and  a delight.  Every  aspirant  for  culture  in  any  of  the  liberal  arts,  including 
music  and  poetry,  will  find  something  in  this  book  to  aid  him.” — Boston  Tunes.  . 

44  It  is  impossible  to  withhold  one’s  admiration  from  a treatise  which  exhibits  in  such  a 
large  degree  the  qualities  of  philosophic  criticism.” — Philadelphia  Press. 

VI.  — Rhythm  and  Harmony  in  Poetry  and  Music.  Together  with 

Music  as  a Representative  Art.  8°,  cloth  extra  . $1.75 

44  Prof.  Raymond  has  chosen  a delightful  subject,  and  he  treats  it  with  all  the  charm  of 
narrative  and  high  thought  and  profound  study.” — New  Orleans  States. 

44  The  reader  must  be,  indeed,  a person  either  of  supernatural  stupidity  or  of  marvellous 
erudition,  who  does  not  discover  much  information  in  Prof.  Raymond’s  exhaustive  and 
instructive  treatise.  From  page  to  page  it  is  full  of  suggestion.” — The  Academy  (London). 

VII.  — Proportion  and  Harmony  of  Line  and  Color  in  Painting, 

Sculpture,  and  Architecture.  Fully  illustrated.  8°  . $2.50 

44  Marked  by  profound  thought  along  lines  unfamiliar  to  most  readers  and  thinkers.  . . . 
When  grasped,  however,  it  becomes  a source  of  great  enjoyment  and  exhilaration.  . . . No 
critical  person  can  afford  to  ignore  so  valuable  a contribution  to  the  art-thought  of  the 
day.” — The  Art  Interchange  (N . Y ). 

44  One  does  not  need  to  be  a scholar  to  follow  this  scholar  as  he  teaches  while  seeming  to 
entertain,  for  he  does  both.” — Burlington  Hawkeve. 

44  The  artist  who  wishes  to  penetrate  the  mysteries  of  color,  the  sculptor  who  desires  to 
cultivate  his  sense  of  proportion,  or  the  architect  whose  ambition  is  to  reach  to  a high 
standard  will  find  the  work  helpful  and  inspiring.” — Boston  Transcript. 

G.  P.  PUTNAM’S  SONS,  New  York  and  London 


3 (pt/ 


THE 


GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM 


THE  SOURCES,  METHODS,  AND  EFFECTS  OF  COMPOSITION 
IN  MUSIC,  POETRY,  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE 
AND  ARCHITECTURE 


PROFESSOR  OF  AESTHETICS  IN  PRINCETON  UNIVERSITY;  AUTHOR  OF  “ ART  IN  THEORY,” 
“THE  REPRESENTATIVE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  FORM,”  “POETRY  AS  A REPRESENTATIVE 
AKT,”  “ PAINTING,  SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE  AS  REPRESENTATIVE 
ARTS,”  “RHYTHM  AND  HARMONY  IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC,”  “PRO- 
PORTION AND  HARMONY  OF  LINE  AND  COLOR  IN  PAINTING, 

SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE,”  ETC. 


AN  ESSAY  IN 


COMPARATIVE  /ESTHETICS 


SHOWING  THE  IDENTITY  OF 


BY 


GEORGE  LANSING  RAYMOND,  L.H.D. 


THIRD  EDITION , REVISED 


G.  P.  PUTNAM’S  SONS 


NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

Cbe  Iftnlckerbocfcer  press 

I9°9 


Copyright,  1893 

BY 

G.  P.  PUTNAM’S  SONS 


Ube  IKnfcfccrbocfccr  Iprcss,  IRcw  IJJorfe 


PREFACE, 


r 


VO 


This  book  is  the  result  of  an  endeavor  to  trace  to  their 
sources  in  mind  or  matter  the  methods  employed  in  the 
composition  of  the  art-forms.  As  an  incidental,  yet,  as  it 
seemed,  necessary  step  to  the  accomplishment  of  this  en- 
deavor, the  action  of  the  mind  in  these  methods  has  been 
identified  with  its  action  in  scientific  classification  ; the 
methods  have  been  arranged  according  to  the  logical  order 
of  their  development  ; they  have  had  added  to  them,  so 
as  to  render  the  whole  presentation  complete,  a number 
hitherto  recognized,  if  at  all,  only  indirectly  ; and  their 
character  and  effects  have  been  shown  to  be  exemplified 
not  alone  in  painting,  sculpture,  or  architecture,  to  which 
it  has  been  customary  to  confine  consideration  in  essays 
of  this  kind,  but  equally  in  all  the  arts. 

The  theoretical,  too,  has  been  so  connected  throughout 
with  the  practical — each  principle  unfolded  has  been  so 
amply  illustrated — that  it  is  hoped  that  the  work  will 
meet  the  requirements  of  that  large  number  of  readers 
who,  while  interested  in  the  one  or  the  other  of  these 
phases  of  the  subject,  are  not  interested  in  both.  Such  a 
partial  interest  with  reference  to  matters  misunderstood 
if  not  understood  in  full,  is  — to  say  the  least — unfortunate  ; 
so  much  so  that  any  attempts,  as  in  these  pages,  tending, 
however  slightly,  to  remedy  it  ought  to  be  welcomed. 
It  is  equally  unfortunate  too  for  critic  and  producer.  In 


IV 


PREFACE. 


every  age,  of  course,  men  of  genius  are  prompted  instinc- 
tively, entirely  aside  from  any  knowledge  that  they  may 
have  of  aesthetic  laws,  to  recognize  and  embody  aesthetic 
effects.  But  where  are  such  men  who  fail  to  find  them- 
selves surrounded  by  the  products  of  their  inferiors?  and 
who  is  able  wholly  to  resist  the  influence  of  these  ? If  it  be 
true  that  art,  like  religion,  is  fountained  in  inspiration,  it 
is  true  also  that  different  sources  of  this  differ  in  quality  ; 
and  that  the  stream  which  flows  from  the  high  region  of 
the  masters  has  a purity  not  characterizing  that  which 
rises  in  the  low  plane  of  their  imitators.  Poetry,  painting, 
sculpture,  and  architecture  were  none  of  them  of  the 
same  rank  in  the  first  century  before  Christ  as  in  the  fourth, 
or  in  the  eighteenth  after  Him  as  in  the  sixteenth. 

Nor  is  the  taste  of  any  age,  however  it  may  stimulate 
ability  or  aspiration  to  produce,  above  the  sway  of 
fashions,  good  and  bad,  that,  in  proportion  as  they  keep 
truth  fettered,  render  excellence  impossible.  In  order  to 
attain  this,  the  leader  in  art,  as  in  religion,  must  break  away 
from  them,  in  fact  from  all  the  shackles  of  conventional 
traditionalism — one  might  almost  say  of  historic  criticism, 
broadly  beneficial  as  this  has  been  in  many  a direction, 
— and,  searching  back  of  them,  must  find  within  himself 
and  in  the  world  about  him,  those  first  principles  that 
underlie  the  nature  of  both  thought  and  things. 

Such  are  the  conceptions  in  which  this  book  has  had 
its  sources;  and  in  the  degree  in  which  the  conclusions 
reached  in  it  are  accurate,  and  appeal  as  such  to  the 
readers  of  them,  it  will  make  evident  that  the  effects  for 
which  the  artist  seeks  are  due  to  laws  that  operate  far 
more  inflexibly  than  sometimes  is  supposed  ; it  will  sug- 
gest that  originality,  while  more  wide  in  scope  than  those 
imagine  who  confound  the  methods  of  the  master-artists 


PREFACE. 


V 


with  their  manner,  has  also  limits  ; and  it  will  reveal  be- 
yond a doubt  why  many  works  of  so-called  art  produced 
to-day,  because  devoid  of  almost  every  element  of  art,  can 
never  be  of  permanent  interest,  as  well  as  why,  for  reasons 
just  the  opposite,  so  many  works  that  are  now  the  classics 
of  the  past  have  charms  that  never  can  be  lost. 

Princeton,  N.  J.,  November,  1892. 


CONTENTS. 


I. 

PAGE 

Classification  as  the  Basis  of  Method  in  Science 

and  Art  .......  1-12 

Spirit,  Matter,  and  their  Combination  as  Sources  of  Phenomena 
in  Religion,  Science,  and  Art — Limitations  of  the  Present  Book — 
Why  Thought  must  be  Expressed  in  Terms  of  Matter — How  In- 
audible and  Invisible  Mental  Conceptions  Come  to  be  Represented 
in  Language,  Intonation,  Writing,  Carving,  and  Building — These 
Pass  into  “ The  Arts  ” when  they  Begin  to  be  Developed  for  the 
Sake  of  the  Form — The  Arts  Represent  Thought  and  Feeling 
through  Elaborating  Natural  Forms  Appealing  to  the  Ear  and 
Eye — Illustrations- — The  Artist  Uses  for  this  Purpose  the  Same 
Forms  that  All  Men  Do,  who,  before  they  can  Understand  and 
Use  them  Effectively  must,  through  Comparison,  “ Classify  and 
Conquer  ” them — This  the  Basis  of  Knowledge  in  all  Depart- 
ments— Science  and  Philosophy  Classify  Effects  Conditioned  upon 
Laws  Operating  underneath  Natural  and  Mental  Phenomena: 

Art  Classifies  Effects  Conditioned  upon  Laws  Operating  underneath 
/Esthetic  Appearances  or  Forms — An  Embodied  Finite  Mind 
Requires  Body  and  Definiteness  to  Appeal  to  its  Intelligence — The 
Artist  Groups  Phenomena  Mentally  to  Gain  a General  Conception, 
then,  in  a Way  Analogous  to  Classification,  Groups  them  Materi- 
ally to  Impart  it  — Connection  between  these  Processes,  and 
Representing  in  Art  both  the  Human  Mind  and  Nature — How 
the  Artist,  by  Classifying  the  Forms  of  Nature,  Represents  his 
own  Mind — And  how,  the  Forms  of  Nature — And  how,  Beauty. 

vii 


CONTENTS. 


viii 


II. 

PAGE 

Unity  and  Comparison,  Variety  and  Contrast, 
Complexity  and  Complement  in  Classifi- 
cation and  Composition  ....  13-33 

Introduction — Mental  and  Material  Considerations  Connected  with 
Each  of  the  Methods — Yet  Divisible  in  a General  Way  into  those 
Manifesting  Effects  of  Mind,  of  Nature,  and  of  both  Combined — 

How  Mental  Considerations  Lead  to  Unity — This  Attained  by 
Putting  the  Like  with  the  Like  by  Way  of  Comparison — Exempli- 
fied in  the  Art-Forms  : in  Poetry — In  Music — In  Paintings — In 
Statues — In  Buildings  of  all  Styles — In  Natural  Forms — This 
Method  Necessary  to  Imaginative  or  any  ^Esthetic  Expression- 
How  the  Consideration  of  Natural  Forms  Leads  to  Variety — This 
Involves  Putting  the  Like  with  the  Unlike  by  Way  of  Contrast  ; 
its  Effects  Illustrated  in  Classification — Variety  in  Poetry — In 
Music — In  Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architecture — Direct  Antithesis 
as  Related  to  Comparison — Its  Effect  in  Literature — In  Poetry — 

In  Music — In  Outline — In  Color — How  Considerations  of  Mind 
and  Nature,  or  Unity  and  Variety,  Lead  to  Complexity — How 
Comparison  and  Contrast  Leads  to  Complement. 

III. 

Order,  Confusion,  Counteraction,  Principality, 
Subordination,  and  Balance  in  Classi- 
fication and  Composition  . . 34-51 

Order — Follows  Variety  and  Complexity,  Owing  to  a Reassertion 
of  the  Mind’s  Requirements — Confusion,  in  Poetry,  in  Music,  in 
the  Arts  of  Sight — Counteraction — Its  Influence  in  Classification — 

In  Art — In  Poetry — In  Music — In  the  Arts  of  Sight — Principality — 
Connection  between  the  Mental  Conception  and  the  Object  Form- 
ing the  Nucleus  of  the  Class — Balance  — Its  Relations  to  Comple- 
ment, Counteraction,  and  Symmetry — To  Twin  Products  in 
Nature. 

IV. 

Principality,  Subordination,  and  Complement 

or  Balance  in  Poetry  and  Music  . . 52-68 

Principality  in  the  Arts  of  Sound  Involves  Something  Kept  Con- 
stantly before  the  Mind — Principality  of  Theme  in  an  Epic — In  a 


CONTENTS. 


IX 


Drama — Of  Form  in  the  Blank  Verse  of  Long  Poems — Of  Short 
Poems,  as  in  the  Chorus— In  the  French  Forms,  Rondel,  Triolet, 
Kyrielle — In  the  General  Movement  as  Representing  the  General 
Thought  — Illustrations — Principality  as  Illustrated  by  Musical 
Variations — And  in  Other  Longer  and  Shorter  Compositions — 
Subordination  and  Complement  or  Balance  in  Poetic  Themes — In 
Poetic  Form— In  Pairs  of  Lines  in  Verse — Correspondence  be- 
tween Poetry  and  Music  in  this  Regard — Balance  in  Poetic  Feet 
and  Pairs  of  Words — The  Same  Method  in  Musical  Themes  and 
Phrases — Illustrations  of  its  Application  ; of  its  Non-application 
— Complement  between  the  Different  Phrases  and  Chords  and 
Measures. 

V. 

Principality,  Subordination,  and  Complement 
or  Balance  in  Painting,  Sculpture,  and 
Architecture  ......  69-96 

General  Illustrations  of  the  Effects  of  the  Three  Methods — Princi- 
pality by  Size,  Position,  Direction  of  Lines,  Color,  and  Shading 
— Illustrations — In  Sculpture — In  Architecture,  through  a Porch, 
Door,  Window,  Dome,  Spire,  etc. — Vertical  and  Horizontal 
Balance — Complement  between  Principal  and  Subordinate  Features 
— Between  the  Subordinate,  with  the  Principal  Separating  them — 
Groupings  of  Odd  and  of  Even  Numbers — Complement  and 
Balance  in  Painting — In  Sculpture — In  Architecture — Approach- 
ing Symmetry  in  Large  Public  Buildings  which  Demand  Effects 
of  Dignity  — Principality  and  Complement  in  Modern  Public 
Buildings — Criticisms — Suggestions — Even  and  Odd  Numbers  in 
the  Horizontal  and  Vertical  Arrangements  of  Architecture. 

VI. 

Grouping  and  Organic  Form  in  Poetry  and 

Music  ........  97-113 

The  Principle  of  Grouping,  Resulting  from  the  Requirements  of 
the  Product — The  Method,  Conditioned  by  this  Principle,  Organ- 
izes the  Group — Organism  in  Nature  and  in  Classification— In  Art- 
Composition — Organism  in  the  Art-Product  : the  Feet,  Trunk,  and 
Head  of  Plato  ; the  Beginning,  Middle,  and  End  of  Aristotle — 
Applied  to  Poetic  Form — To  the  Sentence — To  the  Poem — 


X 


CONTENTS. 


Effects  of  Form  Due  to  the  Organic  Order  in  which  the  Be- 
ginning, Middle,  and  End  of  Movement  are  Presented  : Stedman 
— Where  Thought  is  Didactic  : Longfellow— Pope — Montgomery 
— In  a Simile  : Howitt — Waller — Hugo — Same  Effects  as  Pro- 

duced by  Form  Irrespective  of  the  Thought  — Sherman  — Wad- 
dington — Miller — Gosse — Scollard — A Like  Principle  Illustrated  in 
Plots  of  Long  Poems — In  Music — A Periodic  Form — Explanations 
of  the  Effect  in  Short  and  Long  Compositions — In  Reiterated 
Chords  at  their  Beginning  and  Close — Same  Principle  in  Oratory. 

VII. 

Grouping  and  Organic  Form  in  Painting, 

Sculpture,  and  Architecture  . . 1 14-124 

Places  Corresponding  to  Head,  Trunk,  and  P'eet  in  a Picture — 
Necessity  for  Considering  them — Different  Kinds  of  Contour — 
Arches — Semicircles — Pyramids  — Circles — Ovals — Wedge-Shapes 
— Same  Effects  Produced  by  Light  and  Shade  and  Color,  Differing 
on  Differing  Sides,  Above  and  Below,  at  the  Centre  and  at  the 
Circumference — Same  Effects  in  Sculpture — The  Pedestal  or  Foot, 
the  Canopy  or  Head,  on  Out-Door  Statuary — Architecture — The 
Foot  in  the  Foundation—1 The  Trunk  in  the  Wall — The  Head  in 
the  Roof — Architectual  Grouping  as  a Whole. 

VIII. 

Other  Methods  of  Classification  and  Com- 
position, as  Deduced  from  those  already 
Considered  . . . ...  1 25-132 

Recapitulation  of  the  Principles  and  Methods  Conditioned  upon 
the  Requirements  of  the  Mind — And  upon  those  of  Matter — Other 
Methods  Conditioned  by  the  Product  are  now  to  be  Considered — 

The  Product  a Combination  of  Effects — Produced  Mainly  upon  the 
Mind  ; or  upon  the  Senses  ; or  Partly  upon  the  Mind  and  Partly 
upon  the  Senses — Leading,  respectively,  to  Likeness  by  Way  of 
Congruity — Of  Repetition — And  of  Consonance — Illustrations  of 
the  Three — All  the  Methods  of  Composition  Result  from  Combin- 
ing these  Three  with  the  Seven  General  Methods  Mentioned  above 
— Chart  of  the  Art-Methods — Additional  Statements — Correspond- 
ence between  these  Methods  and  their  Arrangements  and  those 
Given  by  Others. 


CONTENTS. 


XI 


IX. 

PAGE 

Congruity,  Incongruity,  and  Comprehensiveness 

I33-I49 

The  Order  of  the  Arrangement  of  the  Methods  in  the  Last  Chapter 
Corresponds  to  that  of  the  Use  of  them  by  the  Artist — Who  in 
Each  Art  must  Start  with  a Mental  Conception,  and  the  Condition 
of  Mind  Underlying  Comparison  Based  upon  Congruity — General 
Effect  of  this — Incongruity  in  Nature  and  Art — Comprehensiveness 
— Congruity  in  Poetry — At  the  Basis  of  the  Law  of  the  Unities — Why 
the  Latter  is  not  Applicable  to  the  Drama — Congruity,  Incongruity, 
and  Comprehensiveness  in  “Hamlet” — In  “Lear” — In  “Pa- 
tience”— The  Same  in  the  Development  of  Musical  Themes — As 
in  the  Overture  and  Opera  of  “ Tannhauser ’’—Congruity  Uniting 
by  Association  Different  Appearances  in  the  Arts  of  Sight — 
Mainly  this  that  Keeps  Artists  from  Using  together  Forms  of  Gothic 
and  Greek  Architecture — Incongruity  and  Comprehensiveness  in 
the  Arts  of  Sight — Raphael’s  “Transfiguration” — Same  Methods 
in  Architecture. 


X. 

Central-Point,  Setting,  Parallelism,  and  Sym- 
metry .......  150-161 

Especial  Importance  of  Arrangement  in  the  Composition  of 
Features  alike  by  Way  of  Congruity — Connection  between  this 
Fact  and  the  Methods  now  to  be  Considered — Difficulty  of 
Determining  the  Term  Central  Point,  and  Objections  to  other 
Terms — Appropriateness  of  this — Same  Difficulties  and  Objections 
to  Terms  for  the  Second  Method— Appropriateness  of  the  Term 
Setting — Connections  between  Central-Point  and  Principality,  and 
Setting  and  Subordination — Parallelism — Symmetry  and  its  Con- 
nection with  the  Methods  Preceding  it — Recapitulation — How 
Nature  Suggests  these  Methods  : the  Vanishing  Point  and  Radia- 
tion or  Central-Point — Laws  of  Linear  Perspective — Radiation 
Allied  to  Principality  and  Unity — Setting  in  Nature — Parallelism 
in  Lines  of  Horizon,  Rivers,  Hills,  Trees,  etc. — Manifestation  in 
Individual  Forms  of  Nature,  of  Central-Point,  Setting,  Parallelism, 
and  Symmetry. 


CONTENTS. 


xii 


XI. 

PAGE 

Illustrations  of  Central-Point,  Setting,  Par- 
allelism, and  Symmetry  ....  162-187 
Introduction — Poetic  Central-Point  in  the  Climax — Setting  in  the 
Digression — Illustrations — Parallelism  in  Metaphors  and  Similes — 

In  what  is  Termed  Parallelism — And  in  Lines  of  Verse — Poetic 
Symmetry,  with  Illustrations — All  three  Methods  in  Poetic  Form — 
How  Manifested — Central-point  and  Setting  in  Music — Paral- 
lelism and  Musical  Harmony  : Illustrations — Symmetry — Con- 

nection between  Lines  Radiating  from  a Central  Point  and  the 
Appearance  of  Unity  and  Principality  in  Visible  Objects — Illustra- 
tions from  Paintings — Curved  Lines  of  Radiation — Lines  of 
Direction  in  Architecture — The  Nature  of  Setting  in  the  Arts  that 
are  Seen — Parallelism  and  its  Connection  with  Order — Illustrations 
from  Painting  and  Sculpture — How  it  Gives  Unity  to  Forms  Asso- 
ciated by  Way  of  Congruity — Symmetry  : Its  Present  Different 
from  its  Former  Meaning — -Symmetrical  Paintings — Symmetry,  an 
Application  of  the  Principle  of  Complement  to  all  the  Features  of 
the  Two  Sides  of  a Composition — Connection  between  Symmetry 
and  Organic  Form — Some  Variety  not  Inconsistent  with  Symmetry. 

XII. 

Repetition,  Alteration,  and  Alternation  . 188-208 

Importance  and  Order  of  Development  of  Repetition  as  Contrast- 
ed with  Congruity — Repetition,  a Necessary  and  Elementary  Factor 
in  All  Forms — Alteration — How  Differing  from  Variety — Alterna- 
tion and  Other  Allied  Methods — The  Influence  of  Repetition, 
Alteration,  and  Alternation  upon  Thought — How  they  are  Exem- 
plified in  Nature — In  Art  ; Poetic  Repetition  with  Alteration  in 
Lines,  Feet,  Alliteration,  Assonance,  Rhymes— In  Recurring  Re- 
frains, Choruses  : Explanation  of  the  French  Forms  of  Verse — In 
Epithets  and  Phrases — Alternation  in  Accent  and  Lack  of  Accent 
and  in  Rhyming  Lines — The  Three  Methods  in  Music— The 
Three  in  Primitive  Forms  of  Ornamentation  Appealing  to  Sight — 

In  Painting  : How  Imitated  from  Nature  and  how  Produced  by 
Artistic  Arrangements  of  Forms — Even  of  Landscapes — The  Same 
in  Color — In  Sculpture — In  Architecture  — The  Fundamental 
Reason  why  Styles  should  not  be  Mixed — Necessity  of  Unity  of 
Effect. 


CONTENTS. 


Xlll 


XIII. 

PAGE 

Massing  or  Breadth  ......  209-219 

Connection  between  the  Methods  next  on  our  List  and  those 
already  Considered — Massing — Its  Object  is  to  Produce  Cumula- 
tive or  General  Effects — In  Poetry,  by  an  Accumulation  of  the 
Effects  of  Sense  and  Sound — Of  Sound  alone — Connection  between 
Massing  and  Central-Point  as  Illustrated  in  the  Climax — Massing 
in  Music — In  Painting  : the  Meaning  of  Breadth  in  this  Art  as 
Restricted  to  Effects  of  Light  and  Shade — Means  Used  by  the 
Artist  in  Producing  these — Not  necessarily  One  Mass  of  Light  in 
One  Composition  : Three  Masses — Breadth  and  Massing  Analo- 
gous— The  Same  Principles  Applied  to  Colors  and  Outlines — 
Massing  in  Sculpture — In  Architecture : By  Outlines  and  by 
Light  and  Shade. 

XIV. 

Interspersion,  Complication,  and  Continuity,  220-242 
Interspersion  in  Nature  and  Art — Complication  in  Nature  and 
Art — Its  Relation  to  Order — Continuity — Should  not  Disregard 
the  Requirements  of  Variety — Illustrations — Interspersion  and 
Complication  in  Poetry — In  the  Sense — Interspersion  in  the  Form 
— Variety  without  Interspersion  — Complication  in  the  Form — 
Continuity  and  Drift — Interspersion,  Complication,  and  Continuity 
in  Music — The  Two  Former  in  Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architec- 
ture— Continuity  in  these  Latter  Arts — Present  in  Connection  with 
Interspersion  and  Complication. 

XV. 

Consonance,  Dissonance,  and  Interchange  . 243-265 

The  Musical  Meaning  of  the  Term  Shows  it  Allied  to  the  Con- 
gruous— Also  to  the  Repetitious — How  the  Same  Meaning  Attaches 
to  the  Word  as  Used  in  Other  Arts — Three  Ways  in  which  Features 
Seemingly  Alike  may  Differ  : in  Size,  in  Combination,  in  Material 
— Consonance  and  the  Law  of  Help — Dissonance — Why  Involved 
in  Passing  from  One  Key  to  Another — Why  it  Has  Artistic  Value 
— Interchange — Why  Necessary  to  Harmony  in  Music — In  Color 
and  Outline — Poetic  Consonance  — Dissonance — Harmonizing  of 
the  Two — Musical  Consonance — Dissonance — Consonance  in  Color 
in  Connection  with  Difference  in  Texture — Value — Tone — Con- 
sonance not  Harmony — Nor  is  Dissonance  Contrast — The  Same 


XIV 


CONTENTS. 


Methods  in  Outline — In  Painting  and  Architecture — Neglect  of 
them  in  Architecture — Illustrations — Results  — Importance  of 
Harmony  thus  Produced — Which  is  not  Inconsistent  with  Some 
Dissonance. 

XVI. 

Gradation,  Abruptness,  Transition,  and  Progress  in 
Poetry  and  Music  .....  266-277 

Gradation  and  its  Relation  to  Principality,  Central-Point,  and 
Massing — Abruptness,  Transition,  and  Progress — Connection  be- 
tween these  Methods  and  those  already  Considered — Gradation  in 
the  Sounds  and  Colors  of  Nature — In  its  Outlines — Abruptness  in 
Nature — And  Transition — Difference  between  Continuity  and  Prog- 
ress— Gradation  in  the  Thought  and  Form  of  Poetry — Abruptness — 

T ransition — Gradation  in  Music — Abruptness — Transition — Con- 
tinuity in  Poetry  without  Progress — With  Progress — Continuity 
and  Progress  in  Music. 

XVII. 

Gradation,  Abruptness,  Transition,  and  Progress  in 
Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architecture  27S-300 

Gradation  in  Light  and  Shade — -In  Color — Abruptness — Transition 
— Connection  between  these  Methods  and  Curved,  Angular,  and 
Mixed  Effects  of  Lines — Reasons  for  the  Extensive  Presence  of 
Curves  in  Nature  and  Art — Why  the  Curve  is  the  Line  of  Beauty 
— The  most  Common  Curve  of  Nature  is  a Literal  Fulfilment  of  the 
Method  of  Gradation — As  well  as  of  All  the  Methods  of  Artistic  Com- 
position— Curvature  as  Applied  to  the  General  Contour  of  Groups 
in  Painting  and  Sculpture,  especially  to  theLimbs  of  the  Human 
Form — In  Architecture — Why  Curves  are  less  Used  in  this  Art — ■ 
Gradation  in  Combinations  of  Lines  or  Contours — Abruptness  in 
the  Same — Gradation  in  the  Outlines  of  Architecture  : Spires, 
Towers,  Foundations— Over  Openings — In  Italian  Towers — Lines 
of  Lower  and  Upper  Window-Caps,  Gables,  and  Roofs  ; Rounded 
Arches  Below  and  Pointed  Above — The  more  Pointed  Arches 
Below — Abruptness  less  Appropriate  in  Architecture  than  in  Paint- 
ing and  Sculpture — Progress  in  Painting  and  Sculpture  : P'alse 
Methods  of  Obtaining  the  Effect — Right  Methods — In  Architec- 
ture— Conclusion. 


Index 


301-311 


PICTORIAL  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 


1.  Acropolis,  Restoration  of  the  West  End  of  the 15 

From  White’s  “ Plutarch.”  Mentioned  on  pages  16,  75,  89, 

123,  207,  261. 

2.  Cologne  Cathedral — FAgADE. 17 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  18,  87,  go,  190, 

207,  291. 

3.  Taj-mahal — Facade — Agra,  India 19 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  18,  77,  87,  96, 

124,  180,  186,  190,  207,  261. 

4.  Edison  Building,  New  York 21 

From  the  Architectural  Record.  Mentioned  on  pages  22, 

189,  208. 

5.  Central  Congregational  Church,  Providence,  R.  1 23 

From  the  Architectural  Record.  Mentioned  on  pages  22, 

189,  208. 

6.  Romans  Besieging  a German  Fortress 27 

From  Baring-Gould’s  “Germany.”  Mentioned  on  pages  16, 

26,  174,  182. 

7.  Eros,  Statue  of,  in  British  Museum 30 

From  Muller’s  “ Denkmaler  der  Alten  Kunst.”  Mentioned 
on  pages  31,  186,  289. 

8.  Tower  with  Ring 31 

From  Ruskin’s  “Elements  of  Drawing.”  Mentioned  on 
page  31. 

9.  Ancient  Koran  Case 38 

From  Lane-Poole’s  “ Moors  in  Spain.”  Mentioned  on  pages 
37,  224. 

10.  School  of  Athens,  by  Raphael 41 

From  photograph  of  an  engraving.  Mentioned  on  pages  39, 

82,  242,  289. 


xv 


xviii  PICTORIAL  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE 

37.  Cathedral,  Ground  Plan  for 95 

From  G.  II.  F.dbrooke,  Architect,  New  York.  Mentioned 
on  page  95. 

3S.  La  Belle  Jardiniere,  by  Raphaei 116 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  page  116. 

39.  Madonna  Della  Sedia,  hy  Raphael 117 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  page  117. 

40.  Evening,  by  Claude  Lorraine 119 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  31,  118,  146,  156, 

172. 

41.  Market  of  Athens  Restored 121 

From  Harrison’s  “Greece.”  Mentioned  on  pages  79,  120, 

122,  289. 

42.  St.  Sophia,  Constantinople 123 

From  Lane-Poole’s  “ Turkey.”  Mentioned  on  pages  18,  76, 

77,  96,  124,  180,  187,  190,  207,  261,  262. 

43.  Village  Dance,  by  D.  Teniers 143 

F'rom  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  16,  82,  144,  190. 

44.  A Storm,  by  J.  F.  Millet 145 

F'rom  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  page  144. 

45.  Group  of  Niobe,  Sculpture  from 146 

From  Muller’s  “ Denkmaler  der  Alten  Kunst.”  Mentioned 
on  pages  16,  144,  204,  257,  298. 

46.  Transfiguration,  by  Raphael 147 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  72,  82,  116,  118, 

148,  257. 

47.  Canal,  by  Corot 157 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  115,  118,  156,  158, 

159,  172,  238. 

48.  Radiation  in  Natural  Forms 160 

From  Ruskin’s  “ Elements  of  Drawing.”  Mentioned  on 
page  160. 

49.  Japanese  Compositions 161 

From  Kotsugaro  Yenouye’s  “ Fine  Art  Pictures.”  Mentioned 
on  pages  46,  161. 

50.  Cattle,  by  Troyon 173 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  16,  158,  172. 


PIC  TORI  A L ILL  US  TRA  TLONS.  x i x 

PAGE 

51.  Decline  of  Carthage,  by  J.  W.  M.  Turner 175 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  16,  31,  82,  118, 

156,  159.  I72,  238. 

52.  The  Soldier’s  Return,  Relief  on  National  Monument  near 

Bingen  on  the  Rhine 176 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  16,  26,  174,  182, 

257- 

53.  German  Captive,  Statue  of,  Vatican 177 

From  Baring-Gould’s  “ Germany.”  Mentioned  on  pages  176, 

182,  257. 

54.  Mithras  Stabbing  the  Bull — Sculptured  Relief  from  the 

Louvre.  179 

From  Muller’s  “ Denkmaler  der  Alten  Kunst.”  Mentioned 
on  pages  74,  120,  180,  218. 

55.  Othello,  by  Carl  Bf.cker 181 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  72,  174,  181,  239. 

56.  The  Dancer,  Fragmentary  Sculpture  of 183 

From  Abbott’s  “Pericles.”  Mentioned  on  pages  16,  144, 

182,  257. 

57.  Nebo,  Bust  Inscribed  with  Name  of,  British  Museum 184 

From  Ragozin’s  “ Chaldea.”  Mentioned  on  page  183. 

58.  Lucca  Madonna,  by  Fra  Bartolommeo 185 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  72,  185. 

59.  The  Old  Louvre 187 

From  Masson’s  “Mediaeval  France.”  Mentioned  on  page 
186. 

60.  Theatre  and  Ton-FIalle,  Part  of  Design  for 191 

From  the  Architectural  Record.  Mentioned  on  pages  22,  190, 

208,  261. 

61.  Public  Library,  New  London,  Conn..  . . 193 

From  the  Architectural  Record.  Mentioned  on  pages  123,  190. 

62.  The  Vitruvian  Scroll 200 

From  photograph  of  an  engraving.  Mentioned  on  page  200. 

63.  The  Greek  Fret 200 

From  photograph  of  an  engraving.  Mentioned  on  page  200. 

64.  Section  of  Ornamental  Doorway,  Khorsbad,  Chaldea.  . . . 201 

From  Ragozin’s  “ Chaldea.”  Mentioned  on  page  201. 


XX 


PIC  TOR! A L ILL  US  TRA  TIONS. 


PAGE 

65.  Triglyphs  and  Metopes,  from  a Greek  Temple 201 

From  photograph  of  an  engraving.  Mentioned  on  page  201. 

66.  Old  Bridge  at  Coblentz,  by  Turner 203 

From  Ruskin’s  “ Elements  of  Drawing.”  Mentioned  on 
pages  48,  159,  174,  203. 

67.  St.  Nizier,  Church  of,  Lyons 205 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  22, 189,  206,  208,  261. 

68.  Salisbury  Cathedral  from  the  Northwest 207 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  18,  76,  90,  186, 

190,  206,  261. 

69.  Poutou  Temple,  near  Ningpo,  China 208 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  18,  124,  207. 

70.  The  Holy  Night,  by  Correggio.  . . 215 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  16,  72,  80,  120, 

190,  214,  257. 

71.  Gate  of  the  Palace,  Nancy 218 

From  Masson’s  “Mediaeval  France.”  Mentioned  on  pages 
76,  219. 

72.  Chateau  at  Montigny 221 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  31,  37,  77,  78,  124, 

222,  235. 

73.  Landscape  with  Water,  by  Corot 223 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  118,  156,  172,  174, 

222,  234. 

74.  Window  in  the  Alhambra 225 

From  Lane-Poole’s  “ Moors  in  Spain.”  Mentioned  on  pages 
37,  222,  236. 

75.  The  Laocoon,  Sculptured  Group  of 226 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  120,  182,  204,  235, 

238. 

76.  Winchester  Cathedral,  England,  South  Aisle  of 227 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  page  240. 

77.  St.  Loo  Cathedral,  France,  Interior  of 234 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  page  240. 

78.  Beverley  Minster,  England,  Interior  of 235 

F’rom  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  241,  264. 

79.  Exeter  Cathedral,  Interior  of 236 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  238,  241,  264 


PICTORIAL  ILLUSTRATIONS.  xxi 

PAGE 

80.  St.  Hilaire,  Church  of,  Rouen 237 

From  a drawing.  Mentioned  on  pages  124,  241. 

81.  Front  Elevation 238 

From  G.  H.  Edbrooke,  Architect,  New  York.  Mentioned 
on  page  241. 

82.  Side  Elevation 238 

From  G.  H.  Edbrooke,  Architect,  New  York.  Mentioned 
on  page  241. 

83.  Tower  of  Boris,  Kremlin,  Moscow 239 

From  a drawing.  Mentioned  on  pages  124,  241. 

84.  Dome  of  Chiaravalle,  Italy 240 

From  a drawing.  Mentioned  on  page  241. 

85.  Chateau  de  Randau,  Vichy,  France 258 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages,  124,  180,  262. 

86.  Chapel  in  Catacombs  of  St.  Agnes,  Rome 259 

From  Turner’s  “ Short  History  of  Art.”  Mentioned  on  page 
262. 

87.  St.  Botolph’s  Church,  Boston,  England,  Interior  of 260 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  page  262. 

88.  St.  Martyn’s  Church,  Canterbury,  England,  Interior  of.  261 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  page  262. 

89.  Litchfield  Cathedral,  England,  Interior  of 262 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  page  262. 

90.  Farnese  Palace,  Rome — Faqade 263 

• From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  page  265. 

91.  Curve  Exemplifying  Gradation 282 

From  Ruskin’s  “ Modern  Painters.”  Mentioned  on  pages 
282-284. 

92.  Curve  Exemplifying  Gradation 283 

From  Ruskin’s  “ Modern  Painters.”  Mentioned  on  pages 
282-284. 

93.  Theseus,  Sculpture  of 285 

From  Abbott’s  “ Pericles.”  Mentioned  on  page  284. 

94.  The  Death  of  Ananias,  by  Raphael 288 

P’rom  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  pages  72,  144,  257,  287, 

297. 


XXI 1 


PICTORIAL  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 


95.  Doorway  of  Church  in  Jak,  Hungary 289 

From  Ltibke’s  “ History  of  Art.”  Mentioned  on  pages  180, 

291. 

96.  Arch  in  the  Aljaferia  of  Zaragoza 290 

From  Lane-Poole’s  “ Moors  in  Spain.”  Mentioned  on  pages 
37,  180,  291. 

97.  Sienna  Cathedral,  Italy — Faqade 292 

From  Turner’s  “ Short  History  of  Art.”  Mentioned  on 
pages  18,  87,  207,  261,  291. 

98.  Rath-House,  Brunswick,  Germany 294 

From  Zimmern’s  “ Hansa-Towns.”  Mentioned  on  page  295. 

99.  San  Pedro  de  Cardena,  Interior  of 296 

From  Lane-Poole’s  “ Moors  in  Spain.”  Mentioned  on  page 
295 

100.  St.  Maclou,  Rouen,  France 298 

From  a photograph.  Mentioned  on  page  295. 


The  author  wishes  to  express  his  sense  of  obligation  to  the  various  artists, 
publishers,  and  authors  to  whom  he  is  indebted  for  kind  permission  to  insert 
in  this  book  such  illustrations  and  poems  as  are  owned  by  them,  or  protected 
by  their  copyrights. 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


CHAPTER  I. 

CLASSIFICATION  AS  THE  BASIS  OF  METHOD  IN  SCIENCE 

AND  ART. 

Spirit,  Matter,  and  their  Combination  as  Sources  of  Phenomena  in  Religion, 
Science,  and  Art — Limitations  of  the  Present  Book — Why  Thought 
must  be  Expressed  in  Terms  of  Matter — How  Inaudible  and  Invisible 
Mental  Conceptions  Come  to  be  Represented  in  Language,  Intonation, 
Writing,  Carving,  and  Building — These  Pass  into  “The  Arts”  when 
they  Begin  to  be  Developed  for  the  Sake  of  the  Form — The  Arts  Repre- 
sent Thought  and  Feeling  through  Elaborating  Natural  Forms  Appealing 
to  the  Ear  and  Eye — Illustrations — The  Artist  Uses  for  this  Purpose  the 
same  Forms  that  all  Men  Do — Who,  before  they  can  Understand  and  Use 
them  Effectively  must,  through  Comparison,  “Classify  and  Conquer” 
them — This  the  Basis  of  Knowledge  in  all  Departments — Science  and 
Philosophy  Classify  Effects  Conditioned  upon  Laws  Operating  under- 
neath Natural  and  Mental  Phenomena  : Art  Classifies  Effects  Con- 
ditioned upon  Laws  Operating  underneath  Histhetic  Appearances  or 
Forms — An  Embodied  Finite  Mind  Requires  Body  and  Definiteness  to 
Appeal  to  its  Intelligence — The  Artist  Groups  Phenomena  Mentally  to 
Gain  a General  Conception,  then,  in  a Way  Analogous  to  Classifica- 
tion, Groups  them  Materially  to  Impart  it — Connection  between  these 
Processes,  and  Representing  in  Art  both  the  Human  Mind  and  Nature 
— How  the  Artist,  by  Classifying  the  Forms  of  Nature,  Represents  his 
own  Mind — And  how  the  Forms  of  Nature — And  how,  Beauty. 

A LL  the  phenomena  of  life  are  traceable  to  two  sources 
— spirit  and  matter.  The  respective  results  of  the 
two,  however,  are  not  clearly  distinguishable,  so  that, 

i 


2 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


practically,  we  must  always  consider,  as  a third  source,  a 
combination  of  both.  Subjects  of  thought  of  any  impor- 
tance involve  relations  to  all  of  the  three  ; but  the  chief 
place  is  assigned  to  the  first  source  in  religion,  to  the 
second  in  science,  and  to  the  third  in  art,  the  phenomena 
of  which,  corresponding  to  those  of  life  in  general,  are  all 
traceable  to  man  as  the  possessor  of  mind , which  is  the 
embodiment  of  spirit  ; to  natiire,  which  is  the  embodi- 
ment of  matter ; and  to  a combination  of  the  effects  of 
mind  and  nature  in  a product.  Of  these,  however,  it  is 
the  latter  which,  in  every  case,  determines  the  peculiar 
character  of  art  as  art. 

For  this  reason  writers  upon  the  subject  usually  start 
with  a consideration  of  the  product.  Inasmuch,  too,  as, 
according  to  the  conditions,  this  is  a combination  of  ef- 
fects coming  from  both  man  and  nature,  they  are  obliged, 
to  some  extent,  to  consider  in  what  ways  it  has  been  in- 
fluenced by  both.  But  the  emphasis  given  to  either  the 
one  or  the  other  source  may  cause  a wide  deviation  in  the 
lines  of  discussion.  In  the  one  case  the  relations  of  art 
to  the  representation  of  the  thoughts  and  feelings  experi- 
enced by  the  man  engage  the  attention  ; in  the  other  its 
relations  to  the  appearances  and  arrangements  observed 
in  nature.  It  is  with  the  latter  of  these  topics,  but  with 
it  always  as  necessarily  connected  somewhat  with  the 
former,  that  this  book  has  to  deal.  Nor  will  the  whole 
even  of  this  topic  be  treated.  What  is  to  be  discussed  is 
believed  to  be  fundamental  in  character  and  comprehen- 
sive in  results;  but  nothing  more  will  be  undertaken  than 
to  show  how,  the  conditions  of  mind  and  matter  being 
what  they  are,  those  complex  products  which  we  ascribe 
to  art  have  come  to  be  in  their  material  conditions  what 
they  are.  By  a psychologic  process,  in  a case  where  the 


CLA  SSTFICA  TION  AS  THE  BASIS  OF  METHOD.  3 

prevailing  and  popular  historic  method  will  not  suffice, 
an  endeavor  will  be  made  to  trace  the  sources  of  the  laws 
of  composition,  to  indicate  how  they  are  developed,  what 
they  are,  why  they  operate  as  they  do,  and  how,  in  all  the 
arts,  they  operate  in  the  same  way. 

Let  us  begin  by  recalling  why  it  is  necessary  for  the 
purposes  of  art,  or  for  any  human  purposes,  that  the 
things  that  have  their  source  in  mind  should  be  connected 
or  combined  with  the  things  that  have  their  source  in 
matter.  The  reason  is  obvious.  Man  is  a social  being, 
and  likes  to  communicate  the  results  of  his  mental  pro- 
cesses. But  others  can  learn  of  these  only  through  their 
material  organs  of  sight  and  hearing,  and  his  thoughts  and 
feelings  in  themselves  are  invisible  and  inaudible.  He 
must,  therefore,  connect  them  in  some  way  with  things 
that  are  not  so,  with  things  that  are  sufficiently  material 
to  produce  the  desired  material  effects.  These  things  he 
can  find  only  in  what  is  termed  external  nature. 

The  process  that  he  pursues  is  like  this.  He  hears 
sounds  coming  from  waters,  forests,  beasts,  birds,  and, 
instinctively,  from  himself  and  other  men  ; and,  being 
endowed  with  powers  of  imitation  and  reflection,  he  be- 
gins, in  concurrence  with  his  fellows,  to  use  certain  of 
these  sounds  for  words,  embodying  conceptions  which 
each  sound,  in  its  own  way,  has  suggested  to  him.  Later 
on  he  observes  certain  relations  existing  between  objects 
signified  by  the  words,  and,  according  to  some  principle 
of  association  or  comparison,  he  compounds  them,  form- 
ing terms  like  ex-press , up-right-ness , understanding , and 
he  learns,  at  the  same  time,  to  connect  these  and  all  his 
words  grammatically.  Finally,  through  such  processes, 
continued  through  many  years,  he  comes  to  be  able  to 
convey  his  conceptions  fully  in  intonations  and  language. 


4 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


Again,  he  sees  forms  in  nature,  and  by  themselves,  or  in 
connection  with  other  forms,  they,  too,  necessarily  sug- 
gest conceptions  to  him  ; and  he  recognizes  soon  that 
these  visible  forms  also,  in  fulfilment  of  the  same  princi- 
ples of  association  or  comparison,  can  be  made,  by  being 
imitated  in  whole  or  in  part,  to  represent  to  his  neighbor 
the  conceptions  that  they  have  already  suggested  to  him- 
self ; and  beginning  by  rude  sketches  and  constructions, 
leading,  by-and-by,  to  the  inventing  of  ideographic  and 
hieroglyphic  writing,  and  of  ornamental  designing,  he 
finally  comes  to  use,  in  order  to  convey  his  conceptions, 
the  various  methods  now  in  vogue  of  drawing,  carving, 
and  building. 

It  takes  many  centuries  for  such  methods  to  develop 
into  arts  like  music,  poetry,  painting,  sculpture,  and  archi- 
tecture. But,  after  a while,  these  all  appear.  It  is  im- 
portant to  notice,  too,  that  the  way  in  which  they  differ 
from  ordinary  and  merely  natural  modes  of  expression  is 
in  the  fact  that  they  are  not  used,  or,  if  so  used  at  first, 
have  ceased  to  be  used  for  expression’s  sake  alone.  A 
man  hums  and  talks,  fulfilling  an  instinctive  prompting 
of  his  nature,  in  order  to  give  vent  to  certain  inward 
moods.  It  is  when  something  about  the  form  in  which 
he  hums' — the  movement,  the  tune — attracts  his  atten- 
tion, and  he  begins  to  experiment  or  play  with  it  for  its 


1 Compare  with  this  what  is  saicl  by  Herbert  Spencer  in  his  “ Principles 
of  Psychology,”  ii. , chapter  ix. : “ Play  is  . . . an  artificial  exercise  of 

powers  which,  in  default  of  their  natural  exercise,  become  so  ready  to 
discharge  that  they  relieve  themselves  by  simulated  actions  in  place  of  real 
actions.  For  dogs  and  other  predatory  creatures  show  us  unmistakably  that 
their  play  consists  of  mimic  chase  and  mimic  fighting.  It  is  the  same  with 
human  beings.  The  plays  of  children — nursing  dolls,  giving  tea  parties,  and 
so  on,  are  dramatizings  of  adult  activities.  The  sports  of  boys,  chasing  one 
another,  wrestling,  making  prisoners,  obviously  gratify  in  a partial  way  the 


CLASSIFICATION  AS  THE  BASIS  OF  METHOD.  5 


own  sake,  that  he  begins  to  develop  the  possibilities  of  the 
musician.  In  the  same  way,  it  is  when  something  about 
the  forms  in  which  a man  talks — the  metaphors,  similes, 
sounds  of  the  words — attracts  his  attention  and  he  begins 
to  experiment  with  them,  that  he  begins  to  develop  the 
possibilities  of  the  poet.  So  with  drawing,  carving,  and 
building.  A man  does  more  or  less  of  all  of  these,  owing 
to  an  instinctive  prompting  within  him  ; but  when  some- 
thing about  the  outlines,  colors,  and  materials  that 
represent  the  conditions  or  relationships  of  nature  attracts 
his  attention,  so  that  he  begins  to  experiment  with  them 
— it  is  then  that  he  begins  to  develop  the  possibilities  of 
the  painter,  the  sculptor,  or  the  architect. 

While,  therefore,  the  art-product  is  traceable  to  an 
expression  of  a man’s  mental  experiences,  the  elements  of 
which  it  is  constructed  are  forms  borrowed  from  nature, 
and  the  method  of  construction,  or  composition,  as  it 
is  ordinarily  called,  is  a process  of  elaboration.* 1  It  is 
this  process  which,  in  the  present  book,  we  are  to  con- 
sider ; in  other  words,  the  methods,  in  the  different  arts, 
of  elaborating  natural  forms  of  expression  so  as  to  make 
them,  in  a broad  sense  of  the  term,  artistic. 

The  natural  forms  of  expression  which  are  thus  elabo- 
rated include  ail  things  that  can  be  heard  or  seen  ; for 
there  are  none  of  these  which,  at  certain  times,  the  mind 
cannot  use  for  the  purpose  of  representing  outwardly  its 

predatory  instincts.  . . The  higher  but  less  essential  powers,  as  well  as 

the  lower  but  more  essential  powers,  thus  come  to  have  activities  that  are 
carried  on  for  the  sake  of  the  immediate  gratifications  derived,  without 
reference  to  ulterior  benefits  ; and  to  such  higher  powers,  aesthetic  products 
yield  those  substantial  activities,  as  games  yield  them  to  various  lower 
powers.  ” 

1 See  the  author’s  “ Poetry  as  a Representative  Art,”  chapters  i.,  ii., 
xv.,  xvi. 


6 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


inward  processes.  Because  it  can  seldom,  if  ever,  use  for 
the  same  purpose  agencies  that  appeal  to  the  lower  and 
more  physical  senses  of  touch,  taste,  and  smell ; from  them 
no  arts  of  the  highest  class  are  ever  developed.  With  what 
we  have,  however — the  sounds  and  sights  of  nature, — the 
range  from  which  the  elements  of  expression  can  be 
selected  is  practically  infinite.  What  a chaos  do  they 
suggest  in  their  natural  condition,  and  what  a mastery  of 
chaos  in  the  condition  in  which  art,  when  it  has  done  its 
work,  leaves  them  ! In  the  realm  of  sound,  nature  fur- 
nishes effects  like  the  rustling  of  trees,  the  rushing  of 
waters,  the  chirping  of  birds,  the  growling  of  beasts,  and 
the  whistling,  humming,  crying,  groaning,  scolding,  laugh- 
ing, and  talking  of  human  beings.  From  these,  in  some 
way,  after  centuries  of  experiments,  art  produces  a 
Beethoven’s  “ Seventh  Symphony  ” and  a Shakespeare’s 
“ Hamlet.”  In  the  realm  of  sight,  nature  furnishes 
shapes  like  those  of  clouds,  mountains,  valleys,  streams, 
trees,  flowers,  animals,  and  men.  And  from  these,  by 
and  by,  in  some  way,  art  produces  a “Madonna”  of 
Raphael,  a “ Moses  ” of  Angelo,  a “ Cathedral  of  Cologne.” 

By  what  method  does  art  accomplish  these  results  ? 
This  is  the  question  before  us.  In  answer,  it  is  important 
to  notice,  first,  that  the  appearances  of  nature  with  which 
the  artist  has  to  do  are  the  same  as  those  with  which  every 
man  has  to  do.  They  confront  the  child  the  moment  that 
ear  or  eye  is  fairly  opened  to  apprehend  the  world 
about  him.  As  soon  as  he  begins  to  observe  and  think 
and  act,  these  furnish  him  with  his  materials — with  facts 
to  know,  with  subjects  to  understand,  with  implements 
to  use. 

It  is  important  to  notice  again  that  men  generally — and 
possibly  we  may  find  the  same  true  of  artists — before  they 


CLASSIFICATION  AS  THE  BASIS  OF  METHOD.  J 


can  master  the  materials  about  them,  must  do  what  is  ex- 
pressed in  the  old  saying,  “ Classify  and  conquer.”  When 
the  child  first  observes  the  world,  everything  is  a maze; 
but,  anon,  out  of  this  maze,  objects  emerge  which  he  con- 
trasts with  other  objects  and  distinguishes  from  them. 
After  a little,  he  sees  that  two  or  three  of  these  objects,  thus 
distinguished,  are  alike  ; and  pursuing  a process  of  compari- 
son he  is  able,  by  himself  or  with  the  help  of  others,  to  unite 
and  to  classify  them,  and  to  give  to  each  class  a name. 

As  soon  as,  in  this  way,  he  has  learned  to  separate  certain 
animals, — horses,  say,  from  sheep,- — and  to  unite  and 
classify  and  name  them,  he  begins  to  know  something  of 
zoology;  and  all  his  future  knowledge  of  that  branch  will 
be  acquired  by  further  employment  of  the  same  method. 
So  all  his  knowledge,  and  not  only  this,  but  his  understand- 
ing and  application  of  the  laws  of  botany,  mineralogy, 
psychology,  or  theology  will  depend  on  the  degree  in 
which  he  learns  to  separate  from  others,  and  thus  to 
unite  and  classify  and  name  certain  plants,  rocks,  mental 
activities,  or  religious  dogmas.  Without  classification 
to  begin  with,  there  can  be  no  knowledge,  no  understand- 
ing, no  efficient  use  of  the  materials  which  nature  fur- 
nishes. The  physicist  is  able  to  recognize,  relate,  and 
reproduce  effects  in  only  the  degree  in  which  he  is  able 
to  classify  the  appearances  and  laws,  the  facts  and  forces 
of  material  nature.  The  metaphysician  is  able  to  know, 
and  prove,  and  guide  to  right  action  in  only  the  degree 
in  which  he  is  able  to  classify  feelings,  conceptions,  and 
volitions  with  their  motives  and  tendencies  as  they  arise  in 
mental  consciousness  and  manifest  themselves  in  action. 

Why  should  not  the  same  principle  apply  in  the  arts  ? 
It  undoubtedly  does.  Just  as  the  physicist  classifies 
effects  conditioned  upon  laws  operating  underneath  phe- 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


nomena  of  a physical  nature,  and  the  psychologist  classi- 
fies effects  conditioned  upon  laws  operating  underneath 
phenomena  of  a psychical  nature,  so  the  artist  classifies 
effects  conditioned  upon  laws  operating  underneath  phe- 
nomena of  an  artistic  nature.  This  fact  necessitates  his 
considering  appearances  both  as  produced  in  the  world 
without  him,  and  as  influencing  the  mind  within  him.  But 
not  even  the  double  nature  of  these  effects  removes  the 
artist  from  the  essential  conditions  of  the  comparison 
just  made.  As  most  men  use  language,  they  mean  by 
the  term  scientist  not  a mere  physicist,  but  one  who  is 
also  something  of  a psychologist  ; and  by  a philosopher 
not  a mere  psychologist,  but  one  who  is  also  something 
of  a physicist.  The  artist  does  not  differ  from  others 
who  form  classifications,  in  being  influenced  from  the 
direction  of  both  mind  and  matter  but,  mainly,  in  the 
aim  which  he  has  in  view.  The  factors  classified  and  the 
results  attained  in  science,  philosophy  and  art  are  differ- 
ent; but  in  essential  regards,  the  method  is  the  same. 
It  is  so  because  it  is  the  same  human  mind  that  applies  it. 

This  mind  is  an  embodied  mind,  belonging  to  a realm 
not  infinite,  but  finite ; and  things  that  appear  to  be 
infinite  in  number  or  variety  are  beyond  its  grasp.  A 
man  must  analyze,  and  group,  and  marshal  into  order, 
and  define — in  other  words,  “ classify  and  conquer  ” the 
elements  of  the  chaos  about  him,  before  they  can  afford 
him  any  satisfaction,  before  they  can  appeal  with  any 
force  to  his  intelligence,  or  be  used  by  him  so  as  to  appeal 
to  the  intelligence  of  others. 

It  is  true  that  what  has  been  called  classification  does 
not  in  art  result  merely  in  mental  conceptions  of  classes, 
as  of  horses  or  oaks  in  science,  or  as  of  materialists  or 
idealists  in  philosophy.  The  first  result  is  a mental  con- 


CLASSIFICATION  AS  THE  BASIS  OF  METHOD.  9 


ception  ; but  afterwards,  through  a further  application  of 
precisely  the  same  method,  there  comes  to  be  an  objec- 
tive external  product.  In  other  words,  the  artist  begins 
by  gaining  a general  conception  of  a class  in  the  same 
way  as  the  scientist  and  philosopher ; but  he  ends  by 
producing  a special  specimen  of  a class.  Even  the  latter, 
however,  results,  as  we  shall  find,  from  his  grouping  to- 
gether for  this  purpose,  according  to  the  methods  of 
classification,  like  or  allied  factors. 

Before  going  on  to  confirm  this  statement,  it  seems  im- 
portant to  point  out  that  the  principle  involved  in  it  is 
not  inconsistent  with  the  statement  made  at  the  opening 
of  this  chapter,  namely,  that  the  product  of  art  is  due  not 
only  to  the  requirements  of  the  mind,  but  also  to  the  con- 
ditions that  are  furnished  by  nature.  To  render  it  clear 
that  what  was  said  there,  is  in  harmony  with  what  has  just 
been  said  here,  it  is  necessary  to  show,  first,  that  obtain- 
ing a general  conception  as  a result  of  classification,  and 
embodying  this  in  art,  is  not  inconsistent  with  the  artist’s 
representing  himself  or  his  own  mind ; and,  second,  that 
constructing  a product  as  a result  of  a further  application 
of  the  methods  of  classification,  is  not  inconsistent  with 
his  representing  the  forms  of  nature. 

To  show  the  first  of  these  one  need  only  direct  atten- 
tion to  the  intimate  connection  that  always  exists  between 
giving  expression  to  general  conceptions,  and  represent- 
ing the  whole  range  of  the  results  of  observation  and 
thought  that  together  constitute  mental  character. 
Imagine  a gardener  classifying  his  roses — as  he  must  do 
instinctively  the  moment  that  he  has  to  deal  with  any  large 
number  of  them — and  obtaining  thus  a general  concep- 
tion of  the  flower.  Then  imagine  him  trying  in  some 
artificial  way  to  produce  a single  rose  embodying  this 


lO 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


conception.  This  rose  will  very  likely  resemble  someone 
rose  particularly  present  to  his  mind  while  forming  it ; 
yet,  probably,  because,  before  starting  with  his  work,  he 
has  obtained  a conception  of  roses  in  general,  his  product 
will  manifest  some  rose-like  qualities  not  possessed  by 
the  specimen  before  him,  but  suggested  by  others.  That 
is  to  say,  because  of  his  general  conception  derived  from 
classifying,  he  does  more  than  imitate — he  represents 
in  that  which  is  a copy  of  one  rose  ideas  derived  from 
many  roses.  The  same  principle  applies  to  all  works  of 
art.  Let  a man  write  a story  or  paint  a picture.  In 
nine  cases  out  of  ten  in  the  exact  degree  in  which  he  has 
observed  and  classified  many  like  events  or  scenes,  he 
will  add  to  his  product  the  results  of  his  own  thinking 
or  generalizing.  In  fact,  it  is  a question  whether  the 
chief  charm  of  such  works  is  not  imparted  by  the  in- 
troduction into  them,  in  legitimate  ways,  of  these  timely 
generalizations  having  their  sources  not  in  the  partic- 
ular things  described,  but  in  the  brains  of  the  describ- 
es, who  have  already  been  made  familiar  with  many 
other  things  somewhat  similar.  Shakespeare  certainly 
did  not  get  the  most  attractive  features  of  his  historical 
plays  from  history,  nor  Turner  those  of  his  pictures 
from  nature.  So,  as  a rule,  even  in  the  most  imitative  of 
works,  the  really  great  artist,  consciously  or  uncon- 
sciously, gives  form  to  conceptions  that  he  has  derived 
from  an  acquaintance  with  many  other  objects  of  the 
same  class  as  those  imitated.  There  is  no  need  of  saying 
more  to  show  what  is  meant  by  affirming  that  the  mind 
of  the  artist  that  would  represent  itself  in  art  must  start 
by  classifying  in  order  to  conquer  the  forms  of  nature 
with  which  it  has  to  deal. 

Now,  for  the  second  fact,  needing  to  be  shown,  namely, 


CLASSIFICATION  AS  THE  BASIS  OF  METHOD.  II 


that  a product  can  be  constructed  as  a result  of  an  ap- 
plication of  the  methods  of  classification,  and  yet  repre- 
sent the  forms  of  nature.  At  first  thought,  classification, 
and  anything  resembling  imitation  appear  to  necessitate 
different  processes.  But,  possibly,  they  do  not.  Suppose 
that  the  forms  of  nature  themselves  were  found  to  mani- 
fest effects  like  those  of  classification?  In  that  case,  to 
imitate  them  would  involve  imitating  this  ; and  to  add 
to  them,  as  is  usually  done  in  art,  and  to  add  to  them  in 
such  a way  as  to  make  the  added  features  seem  analogous 
to  the  imitated  ones,  and  thus  to  cause  the  forms  as  wholes 
to  continue  to  seem  natural,  would  involve  continuing  the 
process  of  classification.  Now,  if,  with  this  thought  in 
mind,  we  recall  the  appearances  of  nature,  we  shall  recog- 
nize that  the  condition,  which  has  been  supposed  to  exist 
there,  really  does  exist.  A man,  when  classifying  rocks, 
puts  together  mentally  those  that  are  alike.  So  does  na- 
ture, grouping  them  in  the  same  mountain  ranges,  or  at 
the  bottoms  of  the  same  streams.  He  puts  together 
leaves,  and  feathers,  and  hairs  that  are  alike.  So  does 
nature,  making  them  grow  on  the  same  trees,  or  birds,  or 
animals.  He  puts  together  human  beings  that  are  alike. 
So  does  nature,  giving  birth  to  them  in  the  same  families, 
races,  climates,  countries.  In  fact,  a man’s  mind  is  a 
part  of  nature ; and  when  it  works  naturally,  it  works  as 
nature  does.  He  combines  elements  as  a result  of  classi- 
fication, in  accordance  with  methods  analogous  to  those 
in  which  nature,  or,  “ the  mind  in  nature,”  combines  them. 
Indeed,  he  would  never  have  thought  of  classification  at 
all,  unless  in  nature  itself  he  had  first  perceived  the  begin- 
ning of  it.  He  would  never  have  conceived  of  forming 
a group  of  animals  and  calling  them  horses,  nor  have  been 
able  to  conceive  of  this  unless  nature  had  first  made  horses 


12 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


alike.  To  put  together  the  factors  of  an  art-product,  there- 
fore, in  accordance  with  the  methods  of  classification,  does 
not  involve  any  process  inconsistent  with  representing  ac- 
curately the  forms  that  appear  in  the  world.  These  forms 
themselves  are  made  up  of  factors  apparently  put  together 
in  the  same  way,  though  not  to  the  same  extent. 

Before  closing  this  chapter,  lest  the  reader  should  fail 
to  recognize  the  relation  between  the  particular  subject 
to  be  treated  in  these  pages  and  the  general  subject  of 
which  it  forms  a part,  it  may  be  well  to  recall  that  in  the 
first  volume  of  this  series,  “ Art  in  Theory,”  this  same 
principle  of  comparison,  or  of  putting  like  with  like,  was 
shown  to  be  at  the  basis  of  all  imaginative  develop- 
ments of  art  whatsoever,  and  that,  in  chapter  XIV.  of  the 
same  book,  it  was  shown  to  be  at  the  basis  of  all  the  ef- 
fects of  beauty  also,  whether  natural,  such  as  the  artist, 
as  a rule,  seeks  to  reproduce  by  way  of  imitation,  or  artis- 
tic, such  as  he  seeks  to  originate  by  way  of  composition, 
beauty  being  in  that  book  defined  to  be  a “characteristic 
of  any  complex  form  of  varied  elements  producing  appre- 
hensible unity  {i.  e.,  harmony  or  likeness)  of  effects  upon 
the  motive  organs  of  sensation  in  the  ear  or  eye,  or 
upon  the  emotive  sources  of  imagination  in  the  mind  ; or 
upon  both  the  one  and  the  other.” 


CHAPTER  II. 


UNITY  AND  COMPARISON,  VARIETY  AND  CONTRAST, 
COMPLEXITY  AND  COMPLEMENT  IN  CLASSIFICATION 
AND  COMPOSITION. 

Introduction — Mental  and  Material  Considerations  Connected  with  each 
of  the  Methods — Yet  Divisible  in  a General  Way  into  those  Manifesting 
Effects  of  Mind,  of  Nature,  and  of  both  Combined — How  Mental  Con- 
siderations Lead  to  Unity — This  Attained  by  Putting  the  Like  with  the 
Like  by  Way  of  Comparison — Exemplified  in  the  Art-Forms  : in 
Poetry — In  Music — In  Paintings — In  Statues — In  Buildings  of  all 
Styles — In  Natural  Forms — This  Method  Necessary  to  Imaginative  or 
any  ^Esthetic  Expression — How  the  Consideration  of  Natural  Forms 
Leads  to  Variety — This  Involves  Putting  the  Like  with  the  Unlike  by 
Way  of  Contrast  ; its  Effects  Illustrated  in  Classification — Variety  in 
Poetry— In  Music — In  Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architecture — Direct 
Antithesis  as  Related  to  Comparison — Its  Effect  in  Literature — In 
Poetry — In  Music — In  Outline — In  Color — How  Considerations  of 
Mind  and  Nature,  or  Unity  and  Variety,  Lead  to  Complexity — How 
Comparison  and  Contrast  Lead  to  Complement. 

w E are  now  prepared  to  consider  in  a general  way, 
which  only  is  necessary  for  our  purpose,  certain 
facts  with  reference  to  the  methods  pursued  by  men  when 
forming  the  groups  brought  together  in  classification. 
For  the  reasons  given  in  the  first  chapter,  we  may  expect, 
as  a result,  to  obtain  important  suggestions  with  reference 
to  the  right  methods  of  bringing  together  factors  in  art- 
forms. 

Let  us  start  here,  recognizing  again  the  intimate  con- 
nection always  existing  in  art  between  expression  and 


13 


14 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


form,  by  stating  anew  the  fact  already  brought  out  in  the 
first  chapter,  namely,  that  the  artist  in  his  work  is  influ- 
enced by  both  mental  and  material  considerations.  He 
begins  with  a conception  which  in  his  mind  is  associated 
with  certain  forms  or  series  of  forms,  and  to  these  he  adds 
others,  expressive  of  a similar  conception.  These  latter, 
it  is  evident,  are  attributable,  some  of  them  to  the  char- 
acter of  the  conception  that  he  wishes  to  express,  and 
some  of  them  to  the  character  of  the  natural  forms 
through  which  he  must  express  it  ; some  of  them,  in 
other  words,  to  mental,  and  some  of  them  to  material 
considerations.  But  while  this  is  true  in  such  a sense  as 
to  justify  a general  division  of  his  methods  upon  the 
ground  that  they  are  traceable  in  part  to  the  character 
of  mind  and  in  part  to  that  of  nature,  there  is  also  a sense 
in  which  every  one  of  them  is  traceable  to  both.  For 
this  reason  a discussion  of  any  method  whatever  must  in- 
clude, to  be  complete,  some  reference  both  to  its  mental 
and  to  its  material  bearings. 

With  this  explanation,  which  will  show  that  it  is  not 
intended  to  make  too  exclusive  a statement  in  any  case, 
we  may  divide  the  methods  of  classification  and  also  of 
art-composition  into  those  that  manifest  chiefly  the  effects 
of  mind,  of  nature,  and  of  the  combined  influences  of  both . 

So  far  as  classification  results  from  the  conditions  of 
mind,  its  function  is  to  simplify  the  work  of  forming  con- 
cepts, and  its  end  is  attained  in  the  degree  in  which  it  en- 
ables one  to  conceive  of  many  different  things — birds  or 
beasts,  larks  or  geese,  dogs  or  sheep,  as  the  case  may  be — 
as  one.  Classification  is,  therefore,  an  effort  in  the  direc- 
tion of  unity.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  add  that  the  same 
is  true  of  art-composition.  Its  object  is  to  unite  many 
different  features  in  a single  form,  an  effect  invariably  pro- 


UNITY  AND  COMPARISON. 


15 


duced,  too,  by  all  except  the  most  elementary  products 
of  nature. 

Unity  being  the  aim  of  classification,  it  is  evident  that 
the  most  natural  way  of  attaining  this  aim,  is  that  which  was 
mentioned  in  the  first  chapter,  namely,  putting  like  with 
like ; and  that  doing  this  necessitates  a process  of  compari- 
son. It  is  because  all  fish  are  seen  in  some  way  to  com- 


FIQ.  1.— RESTORATION  OF  THE  WEST  END  OF  THE  ACROPOLIS. 
Seepages  16,  75,  89,  123,  207,  261. 


pare,  that  the  mind  classes  them  in  one  group,  and  is 
enabled  ever  after  to  conceive  of  this  group  as  a unity. 

Turning  now  to  the  aesthetic  arts,  and  considering  how 
what  we  term  form  in  them  has  been  developed,  we  shall 
have  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  it  to  be  the  result  of  an 
application  of  a similar  method.  To  show  this,  were  we 
to  follow  the  order  most  naturally  suggested  by  that  of 
their  historic  and  psychologic  development,  we  should 
begin  with  music  ; but  as  poetry  is  more  susceptible  of 


i6 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


exemplification  in  book  form,  it  will  be  better  for  our  pur- 
poses in  the  present  discussion  to  begin  all  our  illustra- 
tions with  it.  Looking  first  at  poetry,  then,  we  find  the 
chief  characteristic  of  its  form  to  be  lines  of  like  lengths, 
divided  into  like  numbers  of  feet,  each  uttered  in  like 
time,  to  which  are  sometimes  added  alliteration,  assonance, 
and  rhyme,  produced  by  the  recurrence  of  like  sounds  in 
either  consonants,  vowels,  or  both. 

So  with  music.  The  chief  characteristic  of  its  form  is 
a series  of  phrases  of  like  lengths,  divided  into  like  num- 
bers of  measures,  all  sounded  in  like  time,  through  the 
use  of  notes  that  move  upward  or  downward  in  the  scale 
at  like  intervals,  with  like  recurrences  of  melody  and  har- 
mony. 

In  painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture,  no  matter  of  what 
“style,”  the  same  is  true.  The  most  superficial  inspection 
of  any  product  of  these  arts,  if  it  be  of  established  reputa- 
tion, will  convince  one  that  it  is  composed  in  the  main  by 
putting  together  forms  that  are  alike  in  such  things  as 
color,  shape,  size,  posture,  and  proportion.  In  confirma- 
tion of  this,  observe,  of  paintings,  Rubens’s  “ Descent  from 
the  Cross,”  Fig.  16,  page  73  ; Gerome's  “ Pollice  Verso,” 
Fig.  26,  page  81;  Teniers’s  “Village  Dance,”  Fig.  43, 
page  143  ; Troyon’s  “Cattle,”  Fig.  50,  page  173  ; Turner’s 
“ Decline  of  Carthage,”  Fig.  51,  page  175  ; and  Correggio’s 
“ Holy  Night,”  Fig.  70,  page  215.  Read  also  pages  255-6. 

Of  statues,  observe  a part  of  the  “ Group  of  the  Niobe,” 
Fig.  45,  page  146;  “The  Soldier’s  Return,”  from  the 
Neiderwald  National  Monument,  Fig.  52,  page  176;  “ The 
Dancer,”  Fig.  56,  page  183;  and  the  “Romans  Besieging 
a German  Fortress,”  Fig.  6,  page  27. 

Finally,  of  buildings,  observe,  in  the  Greek  style,  the 
“Temples  on  the  Acropolis,”  Fig.  1,  page  15;  in  the 


FIG.  2.— COLOGNE  CATH  EDRAL— FACADE. 
See  pages  18,  87,  go,  igo,  207,  2gi. 


i8 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


Greco-Roman  style,  “ St.  Peter’s,  Rome,”  Fig.  23,  page 
78;  in  the  Gothic  style,  the  “Cathedral  of  Cologne,” 
Fig.  2,  page  17,  of  “Salisbury,”  Fig.  68,  page  207,  and  of 
“Canterbury,”  Fig.  32,  page  89 ; in  the  Romanesque  or 
Norman  style,  the  “Cathedral  of  Sienna,”  Fig.  9 7,  page 
292,  and  the  “ Interior  of  the  Church  of  the  Sacred  Heart, 
Paris,”  Fig.  12,  page  49;  and,  in  the  Byzantine  and  Ori- 
ental styles,  “St.  Mark’s,  Venice,”  Fig.  31,  page  88,  the 
“ Mosque  of  St.  Sophia,”  Fig.  42,  page  123,  the  Chinese 
Temple,  Fig.  69,  page  208,  and  that  great  memorial  struc- 
ture of  India,  by  many  considered  the  most  beautiful 
building  in  the  world,  the  “Taj  Mahal,”  Fig.  3,  page  19. 

Notice  now.  as  was  intimated  in  the  first  chapter,  that 
art,  in  pursuing  this  method,  does  no  more  than  to  carry 
farther  a process  that  nature  itself  has  already  begun. 
The  utterance  of  every  bird  or  beast  is  made  up  of  notes 
sufficiently  similar  to  be  termed,  in  a broad  sense,  alike. 
Every  tree  is  covered  with  like  limbs  and  leaves,  every 
animal  with  like  hair  or  scales  or  feathers,  and  every  pair 
of  feet  or  hands  is  ended  with  like  claws  or  toes  or  fingers. 

Notice,  again,  that  the  method  involves  no  more  than 
is  necessary  in  order  to  make  the  products  of  art  what 
they  are.  Every  one  knows  that  comparison  is  the  very 
first  result  of  any  exercise  of  the  imagination.  And  he 
knows  also  that  imagination  is  the  source  of  all  art-pro- 
duction. When  a man  begins  to  find  in  one  feature  the 
image  of  another,  and,  because  the  two  are  alike,  to  put 
them  together  by  way  of  comparison,  then,  and  then  only, 
does  he  begin  to  construct  an  art-product.  And  not  only 
so,  but  only  then  does  he  continue  his  work  in  a way  to 
make  it  continue  to  be  a medium  of  expression.  The 
forms  which  he  elaborates  are  naturally  representative  of 
certain  phases  of  thought  or  feeling,  and  the  significance 


FIG.  3. — TAJ  MAHAL,  INDIA. 


20 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


of  the  completed  product  depends  upon  its  continuing  to 
represent  these  phases.  But  it  can  continue  to  do  this  only 
when  that  which  is  added  in  the  process  of  elaboration 
is  essentially  like  that  with  which  the  process  starts.  It 
is  a striking  illustration  of  the  rationality  which  character- 
izes the  action  of  the  mind  when  working  naturally  and 
instinctively  though  without  knowledge  of  reasons,  that 
the  forms  of  all  the  arts,  as  developed  in  primitive  ages, 
should  fulfil  this  rational  requirement.  It  is  an  equally 
striking  illustration  of  the  irrationality  and  departure  from 
nature  into  which  too  much  self-conscious  ratiocination 
may  plunge  the  same  mind,  that,  in  our  own  more  en- 
lightened age,  art-forms  should  not  only  be  tolerated  but 
praised — in  poems  and  buildings  for  instance — in  which 
the  principle  of  putting  like  with  like  has  been  utterly 
disregarded. 

Observe  the  style  of  the  following : 


Who  learns  my  lesson  complete  ? 

Boss,  journeyman,  apprentice — churchman  and  atheist, 

The  stupid  and  the  wise  thinker — parent  and  offspring,  merchant,  clerk, 
porter  and  customer, 

Editor,  author,  artist  and  schoolboy — Draw  nigh  and  commence  ; 

It  is  no  lesson — it  lets  down  the  bars  to  a good  lesson, 

And  then  to  another,  and  every  one  to  another  still. 

— Leaves  of  Grass  : Whitman. 

O I believe  there  is  nothing  real  but  America  and  freedom  ! 

O to  sternly  reject  all  except  democracy  ! 

O imperator  ! O who  dare  confront  you  and  me  ! 

O to. promulgate  our  own  ! O to  build  for  that  which  builds  for  mankind. 
O feuillage  ! O North  ! O the  slope  drained  by  the  Mexican  sea  ! 

O all,  all  inseparable — ages,  ages,  ages  ! — Idem. 


Observe  also  the  utter  absence  of  any  attempt  to  fulfil 
this  first  requirement  of  art,  in  the  buildings  represented 


FIG.  4.— THE  EDISON  BUILDING,  NEW  YORK  CITY. 

See  pages  22,  189,  208. 


22 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM . 


in  Fig.  4,  page  21,  Fig.  5,  page  23  ; also  in  Fig.  60,  page 
1 9 1 , and  Fig.  67,  page  205. 

But  classification  is  traceable  not  only  to  the  conditions 
of  mind  but  also  of  nature.  It  is  in  the  latter  that  the 
mind  is  confronted  with  that  which  classification  is  in- 
tended to  overcome,  with  that  which  is  the  opposite  of 
unity — namely,  variety.  If  there  were  none  of  this  in 
nature,  all  things  would  appear  to  be  alike,  and  classifica- 
tion would  be  unnecessary.  As  a fact,  however,  no  two 
things  are  alike  in  all  regards  ; and  the  mind  must  content 
itself  with  putting  together  those  that  are  alike  in  some 
regards. 

This  is  the  same  as  to  say  that  classification  involves, 
secondarily,  the  principle  of  putting  the  like  with  the  un- 
like; and  necessitates  contrast  as  well  as  comparison.  The 
objects  brought  together  in  the  same  group,  while  similar 
in  certain  general  and  salient  features,  are  dissimilar  in 
particular  and  less  prominent  ones.  From  a distance,  or 
upon  first  observation,  all  the  voices  of  men  and  all  the 
trees  of  a forest  may  seem  like  repetitions  of  one  another. 
Were  it  not  so,  we  should  fail  to  understand  what  is 
meant  by  the  terms  “ human  voice  ” and  “ oak-tree.” 
We  use  these  terms  as  a result  of  unconscious  classifi- 
cation obtained  by  regarding  certain  general  features 
that  first  attract  attention.  But  when  we  approach  near 
the  object  or  examine  it  carefully,  we  find  that  each 
voice  and  tree  differs  from  its  neighbors  ; not  only  so, 
but  each  note  of  the  same  voice  and  each  leaf  of  the 
same  tree. 

A similar  fact  is  observable  in  products  of  art.  They, 
too,  while  developed  from  the  tendency  to  group  together 
forms  that  are  alike,  are  composed  of  factors  not  alike  in 
all  regards.  Take  poetry.  Who  does  not  perceive  the 


24 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


additional  charm  imparted  to  verses  in  which  more  or  less 
unlikeness  is  blended  with  that  likeness,  which,  a moment 
ago,  was  said  to  constitute  the  chief  element  of  their  forms  ? 
What  is  it  that  imparts  freedom  and  naturalness  to  the 
sounds  of  the  following  lines,  except  the  introduction, 
here  and  there,  of  changes  which,  nevertheless,  do  not  in- 
terfere with  the  general  similarity  of  effect  characterizing 
the  whole  ? 

That  orbed  maiden  with  white  fire  laden 
Whom  mortals  call  the  moon, 

Glides  glimmering  o'er  my  fleece-like  floor 
By  the  midnight  breezes  strewn  ; 

And  wherever  the  beat  of  her  unseen  feet, 

Which  only  the  angels  hear, 

May  have  broken  the  woof  of  my  tent’s  thin  roof, 

The  stars  peep  behind  her  and  peer  ; 

And  I laugh  to  see  them  whirl  and  flee, 

Like  a swarm  of  golden  bees, 

When  1 widen  the  rent  in  my  wind-built  tent, 

Till  the  calm  rivers,  lakes,  and  seas, 

Like  strips  of  the  sky  fallen  through  me  on  high, 

Are  each  paved  with  the  moon  and  these. 

- — The  Cloud  : Shelley. 


They  passed  the  hall  that  echoes  still, 

Pass  as  lightly  as  you  will. 

The  brands  were  flat,  the  brands  were  dying, 
Amid  their  own  white  ashes  lying  ; 

But  when  the  lady  passed  there  came 
A tongue  of  light,  a flit  of  flame, 

And  Cristabel  saw  the  lady’s  eye, 

And  nothing  else  saw  she  thereby, 

Save  the  boss  on  the  shield  of  Sir  Leoline  tall, 
Which  hung  in  a murky  old  niche  in  the  wall. 

“ O softly  tread,”  said  Cristabel, 

“ My  father  seldom  sleepeth  well.” 

— Cristabel : Coleridge. 


VARIETY  AND  CONTRAST. 


25 


As  contrasted  with  these,  any  one  can  recognize  that  the 
following,  on  account — among  other  things — of  its  lack  of 
variety,  is  less  satisfactory. 

Think,  Daphnis,  think,  what  tender  things  you  said  ; 

Think  what  confusion  all  my  soul  betra\  ed. 

You  called  my  graceful  presence  Cynthia’s  air, 

And  when  I sung,  the  syrens  charmed  your  ear  ; 

My  flame,  blown  up  by  flattery,  stronger  grew, 

A gale  of  love  in  every  whisper  flew. 

Ah  ! faithless  youth,  two  well  you  saw  my  pain, 

For  eyes  the  language  of  the  soul  explain. 

— Aramimk  : Gay. 

Take  music  too.  Compare  the  subtle  modifications 
characterizing  successive  phrases  in  even  a simple  melody 
of  Mozart,  like  the  first  of  the  following  examples,  with 
the  monotonous  cadences  of  an  ordinary  street  song,  such 
as  is  represented  in  the  second. 


Wer  un  - ter  ei  - nes  Madchens  Hand  sich  als  ein  Scla-ve 


schmiegt,  und  von  der  Lie- be  fest  ge-bannt  in  schnoden  Fes-seln 


E3 

gpy  - 

a* _ — =5S  f * — — q 

tr 

r — 1 — 

_=j — S — 

2 f - » • 1 » = » f.  • — H 

. v 

2 

liegt  : weh  dem  ! der  ist  ein  ar  - mer  Wicht,  er  kennt  die 


gold  - ne  Frei-heit  nicht,  er  kennt  die  gold-ne  Frei-heit 


= - -i. ; 

nicht,  er  kennt 


die 


gold-ne  Freit-heit  nicht. 

— Lied  der  Freiheit  : Mozart. 


26 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


When  we  first  came  on  this  cam-pus,  Freshmen  we,  as 


green  as  grass  ; Now,  as  grave  and  rev  - er  - end  Sen  - iors, 


Smile  we  o-  ver  the  ver  - dant  past.  Co  - ca  - che-lunk-che- 


lunk-che-la  - ly,  Co-ca-che-lunk-che-lunk-che-lay,  Co- ca-che- 


lunk- che-lunk- che- la  - ly,  Hi  ! O chick-a-  che-lunk-che-lay. 


• — Co-ca-che-lunk : College  Song. 

A similar  truth  is  illustrated  in  painting  and  sculpture. 
As  will  be  shown  by  and  by,  the  most  important  essential 
of  excellence  in  the  forms  of  these  arts  is  caused  by  effects 
resulting  from  innumerable  repetitions  and  corresponden- 
ces ; yet,  perhaps,  the  most  invariable  characteristic  of 
inartistic  pictures  and  statues  is  a lack  of  sufficient  diver- 
sity, colors  too  similar,  outlines  too  uniform.  See  Fig.  6, 
page  27  ; and  contrast  it  with  the  more  artistic  manage- 
ment of  similar  effects  in  “ The  Soldier’s  Return,”  Fig.  52, 
page  176.  So,  too,  with  architecture.  Notice  the  con- 
ventional fronts  of  the  buildings  on  many  of  the  streets 
of  our  cities.  Their  accumulations  of  doors  and  windows 
and  cornices,  all  of  like  sizes  and  shapes,  are  certainly  not 
in  the  highest  sense  interesting.  For  this  their  outlines 
are  too  little  varied.1  When  we  have  seen  a few  of  them, 
we  have  seen  all  of  them.  But,  in  order  to  continue  to 

1 Yet  often  too  greatly,  as  by  ten  stories  next  door  to  only  two. 


FIG.  6.— ROMANS  BESIEGING  A GERMAN  FORTRESS. 
(Column  of  M.  Aurelius,  Rome.) 


28 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


interest  the  mind,  forms  must  continue  to  present  to  it 
something  that  has  not  been  seen  before.  All  these  facts 
show  that  even  though  an  art-product  be  constructed,  in 
the  main,  upon  the  principle  of  putting  like  with  like,  a 
lack  of  likeness  is  sometimes  desirable  in  order  to  intro- 
duce into  the  form  that  element  of  change1  which  in 
poetry  and  music  is  necessary  to  the  effect  of  movement, 
and  in  painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture,  to  the  effect 
of  life,  which  is  closely  allied  to  that  of  movement. 

It  is  important  now  to  notice  further  that  if  occasional 
unlikeness  be  thus  introduced  into  a form,  the  more 
apparent  the  unlikeness  is,  the  more  satisfactory  often  is 
its  effect.  In  this  case  the  dissimilarity  attracts  more 
attention  both  to  itself  and  to  the  general  method  of 
comparison  which  it  opposes.  No  form  appears  to  be  so 
individual  in  character  as  when  it  is  thrown  into  relief  by 
the  proximity  of  other  forms  between  which  and  itself  the 
difference  is  radical  ; as  the  figure  of  a man,  for  instance, 
when  surrounded  by  natural  scenery ; or  as  a smooth 
young  face  when  surmounted  by  the  gray  hair  of  a wig. 
In  addition  to  this,  it  is  worth  remarking  that  in  the  de- 
gree in  which  unlike  features  are  the  most  distinctly 
antithetic  they  show  the  clearest  possible  consciousness  on 
the  part  of  the  artist  that  comparison  is  the  main  process 
employed,  and  that  variety  is  exceptional.  No  one  can 
originate  or  recognize  an  antithesis — by  which  is  meant 
an  effect  produced  when  two  objects  differ  diametrically  in 
at  least  one  particular,  and  yet  agree  in  others — except  as  a 
result  of  comparison.  For  all  these  reasons  contrast,  when 
used  within  proper  limits,  is  a legitimate  artistic  method. 

In  literature,  for  instance,  every  well-written  page  is  full 
of  contrasts  expressed  either  directly,  as  in  “ Open  rebuke 
is  better  than  secret  love,”  “ Gold  cannot  make  a man 
1 Compare  with  this  what  is  said  on  pages  139,  189,  and  258. 


VARIETY  A HD  CONTRAST. 


29 


happy  any  more  than  rags  can  render  him  miserable  or 
else  indirectly,  as  in  Lord  Chatham’s  question,  when 
opposing  the  war  against  the  American  colonies  : “ Who  is 
the  man  that  has  dared  to  call  into  civilized  alliance  the 
wild  and  inhuman  inhabitant  of  the  woods,  to  delegate 
to  the  merciless  Indian  the  defence  of  disputed  rights, 
and  to  wage  the  horrors  of  his  barbarous  war  against  our 
brethren  ? ” 

Of  course,  the  same  principle  is  exemplified  in  literature 
put  into  the  form  of  poetry. 

In  peace  there ’s  nothing  so  becomes  a man 

As  modest  stillness  and  humility  ; 

But  when  the  blast  of  war  blows  in  our  ears. 

Then  imitate  the  action  of  the  tiger. 

— Henry  V . , iii. , 1 : Shakespeare. 

A light  wife  doth  make  a heavy  husband. 

— Merck,  of  Venice , v. , 1 : Idem. 

To  apply  the  same  principle  to  poems  considered  as 
wholes,  what  could  make  characters  as  disingenuous  as 
Shakespeare’s  Desdemona  and  Ophelia,  or  even  as  his 
Othello,  Hamlet,  and  Lear,  manifest  their  distinctive  traits 
so  well  as  the  surging  mass  of  plotting  and  passion  by 
which  we  find  them  surrounded  ? See  also  the  quotations, 
beginning  on  pages  138  and  139. 

In  music,  too,  what  can  cause  the  individuality  of  a 
melody  to  stand  out  in  clearer  relief  than  the  contrast 
afforded  when  it  is  alternated  with  what  are  termed  varia- 
tions, or  is  projected  from  a background  of  harmonic 
modulations  that  move  up  while  it  moves  down,  or  that 
pass  from  one  key  into  another,  while  it,  considered  in  it- 
self, does  not  necessitate  such  transitions?  Notice  the 
music  on  pages  60  and  67.  Sudden  and  sharp  antitheses  are 
produced  in  this  art  in  ways,  too,  less  distinctively  musical. 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


30 


FIG.  7.— STATUE  OF  EROS  IN  BRIT- 
ISH MUSEUM. 

See  pages  31,  186,  289. 


Once,  when  it  was  my  good 
fortune  to  hear  Allegri’s 
“Miserere”  sung  in  the  Sis- 
tine  Chapel  at  Rome,  on  a 
Good-Friday,  the  perform- 
ance was  introduced  by  an 
extremely  monotonous  chant, 
which  seemed  to  last  for 
hours,  though  possibly  for 
less  than  one  hour.  But 
when,  at  last,  the  chant  glid- 
ed into  the  grand  chords  of 
the  “ Miserere,”  the  effect  of 
the  contrast  between  the  two 
was  so  thrilling  that  one  could 
imagine  that  of  itself  it  could 
be  enough  to  make  an  ordi- 
nary composition  sound  like 
a strain  from  a chorus  of 
angels. 

The  same  principle  is  not 
less  operative  in  the  arts  that 
are  seen.  It  explains  why 
folds  of  drapery,  or  the 
straight  lines  of  a girdle 
band,  niche,  porch,  or  pedes- 
tal increase,  as  we  must  often 
have  remarked,  the  effective- 
ness of  a human  figure  in 
connection  with  which  they 
are  depicted.  Observe,  in 
the  principal  form  in  Ge- 
rome’s  “ Pollice  Verso,"  Fig. 


VARIETY  AND  CONTRAST. 


26,  page  81,  the  contrast  between  the  bare  flesh  and 
the  helmet  and  other  mailing ; also  how  much,  even  as 
represented  here  in  outline,  the  slight  band  over  the 
shoulder  of  the  “ Eros  ” of  the  British  Museum,  Fig.  7,  page 
30  adds  to  the  general  charm  of  the  whole.  Notice,  too, 
how  much  would  be  lacking  to  the  effect  of  Claude’s14  Even- 
ing,” Fig.  40,  page  119,  as  well  as  of  Turner’s  44  Decline  of 
Carthage,”  Fig.  51,  page  175,  did  either  not  contain  the 
comparatively  few  figures  of  people  in  the  foreground. 
For  the  same  reason,  shrubbery,  trees,  and  mountain 


scenery  augment  the  attractiveness  of  houses  or  towers 
by  which  we  find  them  surrounded.  See  the  44  Montigny 
Chateau  in  the  Valley,”  Fig.  72,  page  221.  As  applied  to 
the  forms  of  architecture  considered  in  themselves,  too, 
the  same  is  true.  Notice  the  round  face  of  the  clock  in 
the  chateau  just  mentioned.  Ruskin,  in  his  44  Elements  of 
Drawing,”  Letter  II.,  illustrates  a similar  effect  by  drawing 
a small  iron  ring,  not  corresponding  to  anything  about  it, 
against  one  wall  of  a square  and  angular  set  of  battle- 
ments (Fig.  8)  and  says  with  reference  to  the  sketch  : 44  All 


FIG.  8.— See  page  31 


o- 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


would  have  been  unsatisfactory  if  there  had  not  happened 
to  be  that  iron  ring  on  the  inner  wall,  which  by  its  vigor- 
ous black  circular  line  precisely  opposes  all  the  square  and 
regular  characters  of  the  battlements  and  roof  ” ; and 
draws  the  inference  that  “ It  is  quite  singular  how  very 
little  contrast  will  sometimes  serve  to  make  an  entire 
group  of  forms  interesting,  which  would  otherwise  have 
been  valueless.” 

In  a similar  way,  a single  ray  of  light,  bursting  through 
the  clouds  of  a storm-piece,  often  both  heightens  the  effect 
of  gloom  and  introduces  into  the  whole  an  element  of 
cheerfulness.  So,  too,  with  a bright-hued  flower,  amid 
the  green  of  a forest,  and  a bit  of  gilding  on  a cloud  against 
the  blue  of  the  sky.  They  answer  the  same  purpose  as 
the  round  ring  amid  the  angular  forms  of  the  sketch 
drawn  by  Ruskin.  The  whole  of  Jules  Breton’s  picture, 
at  one  time  in  the  New  York  Metropolitan  Museum, 
entitled  “ Brittany  Washerwoman,”  is  enlivened  by  a very 
little  red  introduced  for  this  purpose  on  the  bodice  of  a 
single  woman.  Of  course,  it  needs  to  be  borne  in  mind 
that  in  all  the  arts,  as  indeed  in  nature,  the  number  of 
features  introduced  for  the  sake  of  contrast  should  be 
comparatively  small.  Only  in  this  case  can  they  be  kept 
subordinate,  as  they  always  should  be,  to  effects  that 
fulfil  the  predominating  requirement  of  comparison. 

We  pass  on  to  consider  the  methods  of  classification 
that  are  traceable  to  the  influences  of  mind  and  nature  com- 
bined, or,  as  we  may  say  now,  of  unity  and  variety.  Here 
we  need  not  dwell  long.  Any  class  composed  of  both 
like  and  unlike  factors  necessarily  has  complexity.  So  has 
any  single  form  of  art  or  of  nature.  These  statements 
need  no  proof. 

Again,  if  so  far  as  factors  are  alike  they  involve  com- 


COMPLEXITY  AND  COMPLEMENT. 


33 


pnrison , and  so  far  as  they  are  unlike  they  involve  contrast , 
it  follows  that,  so  far  as  they  are  both  like  and  unlike,  and 
yet  must  both  appear  to  be  parts  of  the  same  unity,  whether 
of  a class  or  a form,  they  must  involve  what  we  term  com- 
plement. Two  things  are  complements  when  they  contrast, 
and  yet,  as  they  appear  together,  complete  the  one  thing 
to  which  they  equally  belong.  They  must  be  regarded, 
too,  in  classification,  because  every  department  of  nature 
is  full  of  them.  Certain  kinds  of  metals  and  ores,  leaves 
and  branches,  males  and  females,  alike  in  some  regards, 
unlike  in  others,  are  always  found  together,  and  are  both 
necessary  to  the  realization  of  the  type.  So  in  the  arts. 
In  those  of  sound,  high  and  low  tones  contrast ; and  yet,  if 
we  would  have  rhythm,  melody,  or  harmony,  both  are 
necessary.  In  the  arts  of  sight,  light  and  shade  contrast  ; 
and  yet,  if  we  would  represent  the  effects  of  forms  as  they 
appear  in  sunlight,  both  are  necessary.  In  colors,  again, 
certain  hues,  like  red  and  blue-green,  contrast  ; and  yet 
as  both,  when  blended  together,  make  white,  both  may 
be  said  to  be  necessary  to  complete  the  effects  of  light. 
In  all  these  cases  the  contrasting  factors  are  termed  com- 
plements. The  principle  which  underlies  their  uses  is 
closely  related,  both  in  reality  and  in  ordinary  conception, 
to  the  developments  of  it  in  counteraction  and  balance. 
For  this  reason  there  is  no  necessity  of  illustrating  it  until 
we  come  to  treat  of  them.  Enough  has  been  done  for 
our  present  purpose  in  merely  indicating  the  fact  of  its 
existence,  and  its  influence  in  producing  effects  of  unity, 
notwithstanding  the  presence  of  contrast. 

3 


CHAPTER  III. 


ORDER,  CONFUSION,  COUNTERACTION,  PRINCIPALITY, 
SUBORDINATION,  AND  BALANCE  IN  CLASSI- 
FICATION AND  COMPOSITION. 

Order — Follows  Variety  and  Complexity,  Owing  to  a Reassertion  of  the 
Mind’s  Requirements — Confusion,  in  Poetry,  in  Music,  in  the  Arts  of 
Sight — Counteraction — Its  Influence  in  Classification — In  Art — In  Poe- 
try— In  Music — In  the  Arts  of  Sight — Principality — Connection  be- 
tween the  Mental  Conception  and  the  Object  Forming  the  Nucleus  of 
the  Class — Balance — Its  Relations  to  Complement,  Counteraction,  and 
Symmetry — To  Twin  Products  in  Nature. 


O attain  unity  of  effect  has  been  said  to  be  the  primary 


aim  of  all  efforts  at  classification  and  art-composi- 
tion. When,  owing  to  variety  and  complexity,  this  aim 
cannot  be  attained  through  a use  of  forms  as  they  exist 
in  nature,  it  must  be  attained  through  a method  of  using 
them  ; in  other  words,  through  order.  Order,  in  fact,  can- 
not be  defined  better  than  by  saying  that  it  is  an  arrange- 
ment of  factors  in  accordance  with  some  apparent  method. 
No  matter  what  the  particular  method  is,  so  long  as  any 
is  visible,  order  is  visible.  A number  of  straight  sticks 
thrown  carelessly  upon  the  ground,  one  upon  another,  and 
crossing  at  all  conceivable  angles,  are  usually  in  disorder, 
but  if  we  make  them  parallel,  either  lying  down  or  standing 
up  ; or  make  them  cross  or  radiate  at  like  angles  or  from 
like  points, — in  any  such  cases,  though  differently  obtained, 
we  have  effects  of  order ; and  we  could  apply  a similar 


34 


ORDER. 


35 


principle  to  the  blending  of  colors  or  tones.  The  impor- 
tant fact  is  that  order  is  a result  of  method.  This  being 
so,  everything  that  is  to  follow  in  the  present  volume  has 
to  do  with  it  as  differently  developed  in  different  circum- 
stances ; and  we  need  not  stop  to  illustrate  its  general 
effects. 

Notice,  however,  its  relationship  to  the  line  of  thought 
that  is  now  being  followed.  Order  results  from  an  asser- 
tion of  the  mind's  requirements,  notwithstanding  oppos- 
ing conditions  of  nature.  When,  owing  to  these,  the  effect 
of  unity  cannot  be  obtained — because  it  does  not  exist — 
in  a likeness  manifested  in  all  the  members  of  a class,  the 
course  pursued  is  something  like  this.  Thought  contents 
itself  with  likeness  manifested  in  a few  forms,  which  are 
then  grouped  so  as  to  emphasize  their  similarity.  The 
moment  that  this  grouping  is  begun,  there  begins  to  be 
some  order.  But  only  later  does  it  come  to  have  its  per- 
fect work.  Very  soon  slight  differences  are  seen  to  sepa- 
rate even  the  members  that  at  first  seemed  alike,  while  the 
differences  that  at  first  seemed  to  separate  others  are 
diminished.  Finally,  throughout  all  nature  it  is  found 
that  there  are  links  enabling  one  to  connect  every  class 
with  others  on  both  sides  of  it,  and  thus  to  connect  all 
possible  classes  together.  When  an  attempt  is  made  to 
do  this,  the  factors  composing  each  class,  and  also  the 
classes  composing  all  those  of  nature,  come  to  be  grouped 
according  to  their  degrees  of  difference  in  a regularly 
graded  series.  We  may  express  this  fact  by  saying  that 
the  classes  and  the  system  of  classification  as  a whole  come 
to  have  group-form.  Only  when  this  result  is  reached  is 
the  work  of  order  completed.  Of  course  the  same  prin- 
ciple applies  to  the  bringing  together  of  the  factors  com- 
posing any  given  art-form. 


36 


THE  GENESIS  OE  ART-FORM. 


When  the  conditions  of  nature  necessitate  such  an  effect 
of  variety  that  there  is  no  order,  we  have  that  lack  of  ar- 
rangement preceding  and  necessitating  classification  which 
is  termed  confusion.  But,  because  confusion  exists  in 
nature,  it  may  sometimes  be  legitimately  introduced  into 
art.  It  is  this  fact  that  in  poetry  justifies  an  occasional, 
but  only  an  occasional,  use,  when  demanded  by  confusion 
of  thought,  of  mixed  metaphors.  In  these,  terms  rightly 
characterizing  different  objects  or  conditions  which  are 
compared,  are  used  when  referring  to  the  same  object 
or  condition.  Of  course  the  effect  conveyed  is  that  the 
mind  does  not  clearly  distinguish  the  two  but  confuses 
them;  e.g.  : 

Or  take  up  arms  against  a sea  of  troubles, 

And  by  opposing,  end  them. 

— Hamlet , iii. , I : Shakespeare. 

So  with  ellipsis,  in  which  a phrase  or  sentence,  before 
being  completed,  is  interrupted  by  another.  This  causes 
the  meanings  of  both  to  be  confused  ; e.  g. : 

O life,  life-breath, 

Life-blood, — ere  sleep  come  travail,  life  ere  death. 

This  life  stream  on  my  soul,  direct,  oblique, 

But  always  streaming.  Hindrances  ? They  pique — 

Helps  ? Such  . . . but  why  repeat,  my  soul  o’ertops 
EacK  height,  than  every  depth  profoundlier  drops  ? 

Enough  that  I can  live  and  would  live.  Wait 
For  some  transcendent  life  reserved  by  Fate 
To  follow  this.  O never.  Fate  I trust 
The  same,  my  soul  to  ; for,  as  who  flings  dust, 

Perchance — so  facile  was  the  deed,  she  checked 
The  void  with  these  materials  to  affect 
My  soul  diversely — these  consigned  anew 
To  naught  by  death,  what  marvel  if  she  threw 
A second  and  superber  spectacle 
Before  it  ? 


— ■ Sordello , book  vi.  : Browning. 


CONFUSION. 


37 


Broken  rhythm  in  the  same  way  illustrates  confusion 
of  form  ; c.  g.  : 

Let  me  behold  thy  face.  Surely  this  man 
Was  born  of  woman. 

Forgive  my  general  and  exceptless  rashness 
You  perpetual-sober  gods. 

— Timon  of  Athens,  iv.,  3 : Shakespeare. 

The  same  principle  justifies  in  music  the  use  of  mere 
noise,  as  in  the  sounds  of  gongs,  cymbals,  drums,  or  of 
accompaniments  or  interruptions  of  any  kind  that  intro- 
duce into  the  melody  or  harmony  discrepancy  or  discord. 
It  justifies,  in  the  arts  of  sight  also,  whether  painting, 
sculpture,  or  architecture,  the  representation  of  the  ap- 
pearances on  trees  or  vines  of  leaves  and  branches  when 
they  seem  like  mere  daubs  of  color  in  the  distance,  also  of 
wool  on  sheep,  and  of  hair,  if  at  all  disordered,  on  the  hu- 
man head,  as  well  as  of  mixed  and  broken  effects  of  differ- 
ent patterns,  sizes,  and  colors,  in  the  wood,  stone,  and  glass 
of  lattice-work,  masonry,  and  windows.  Notice  the  foliage 
covering  the  left  wing  of  the  “ Chateau  of  Montigny,” 
Fig.  72,  page  221,  also  some  of  the  work  in  the  “Ancient 
Koran  Case,”  Fig.  9,  page  38,  in  the  “ Window  of  the 
Alhambra,”  Fig.  74,  page  225,  and  in  the  “Arch  in  the 
Aljaferia,”  Fig.  96,  page  290. 

It  is  evident,  however,  that  although  a little  confusion, 
like  a little  contrast,  may  sometimes,  by  way  of  variety, 
add  greatly  to  the  attractiveness  of  that  with  which  it  is 
associated,  it  nevertheless  needs  to  be  used  in  such  a way 
as  to  suggest  the  dominance  of  unity  and  order.  How 
can  this  be  done?  A little  thought  will  reveal  to  us  that, 
even  in  connection  with  confusion,  order  can  manifest  itself, 
and  manifest  itself  clearly  by  way  of  counteraction.  Nature, 
even  to  the  primitive  man,  could  not  have  seemed  wholly 


38 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


chaotic,  from  the  moment  that  experience  of  night  and 
day  and  seed-time  and  harvest  had  enabled  him  to  recog- 
nize order  behind  them.  So  an  animated  tangle  of  wool 


FIG.  9.— ANCIENT  KORAN  CASE  (escurial  Library,  Spain.) 
See  pages  37,  224. 


or  hair  does  not  have  the  effect  of  mere  confusion,  from 
the  moment  that  a glimpse  of  a method  of  contour  with 
which  we  are  familiar  shows  that  it  belongs  to  the  order 


CO  UN  TER  A CTION. 


39 


of  the  dog  or  the  sheep.  In  such  cases,  recalling  that 
both  order  and  confusion  are  effects,  we  can  say  that  what 
confusion  or  variety  needs,  before  any  effect  of  unity  or 
order  is  produced,  is  counteraction.  Carl  Blanc,  indeed, 
in  the  introduction  to  his  “Art  in  Ornament  and  Dress,” 
terms  it  “ balanced  confusion.”  By  this  he  means  that 
which  keeps  confusion  within  the  compass  of  some  rhythm, 
tune,  form,  or  color ; and  causes  the  whole,  in  spite  of  op- 
posing elements,  to  manifest  method.  If  he  applied  his 
thought  to  music,  he  would  mean  that  which  causes  gongs 
or  drums  to  be  struck  so  as  to  augment  the  rhythmic  effect 
of  the  general  movement.  Applied  to  painting,  at  all 
events,  he  means  that  which  causes  tangled  masses  of 
wool,  or  foliage,  to  hang  about  animals,  trees,  or  towers, 
in  such  ways  as  to  introduce  more  or  less  variety  into  the 
order  that  in  general  characterizes  them.  He  means  that 
which,  through  the  use  of  a background  of  mathematical 
architectural  forms,  holds  together  and  makes  a unity  of 
the  otherwise  confused  groups  of  men  in  Raphael’s 
“ School  of  Athens.”  See  Fig.  io,  page  41.  But  the 
term  balance , as  we  shall  find  hereafter,  has  a slightly 
different  meaning  from  that  which  he  assigns  to  it,  while 
counteraction  would  answer  all  his  purposes. 

Counteraction , it  is  true,  underlies  balance ; but  it  is  a 
principle  of  different  and  broader  applicability.  We 
have  noticed  some  of  its  uses  in  connection  with  confu- 
sion. But  these  uses  are  as  wide  in  their  range  as  the 
whole  field  of  art-production.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say 
that,  without  counteraction,  it  would  be  impossible  to 
turn  the  formless  confusion  of  nature  into  any  art-forms 
whatever.  To  go  back  to  classification  in  order  to  show 
this,  suppose  that  we  are  dealing  with  the  bats.  They 
have  hair,  teeth,  and  other  characteristics  that  make  them 


40 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


compare  with  the  mice,  or  belong  to  that  order ; but 
besides  this  they  have  wings,  and  these  cause  them  to 
contrast  with  the  mice,  and  to  be  confused  with  the 
birds.  It  is  evidently  appropriate  to  say  that  the  two 
conditions  counteract  each  other. 

This  fact,  moreover,  has  other  effects.  It  gives  a class, 
as  a whole,  a mixed  character,  which  causes  certain  of 
its  members  to  be  allied  not  only  to  it,  but  to  other 
classes,  between  which  and  it,  therefore,  these  members 
serve  as  connecting  links  ; as  the  bat  does  between  the 
mammal  and  the  bird,  and  as  the  seal  between  the  mam- 
mal and  the  fish.  It  is  counteraction,  therefore,  that 
enables  us  to  perceive  upon  what  other  classes  on  differ- 
ent sides  any  given  classes,  metaphorically  speaking,  bor- 
der. It  is  this  that  enables  us  to  assign  limits  or  outlines 
to  different  groups,  as  well  as  to  bring  together  those  that 
are  the  most  nearly  related.  In  other  words,  counterac- 
tion furnishes  us  with  the  first  condition  of  that  which, 
as  applied  to  individual  or  collective  factors,  we  may  term 
form. 

This  will  appear  more  evident  as  we  go  on  to  consider 
counteraction  in  art-composition.  Here  it  is  manifested 
whenever  we  have  in  the  same  product  or  part  of  a product 
opposing  effects.  We  have  to  show  that  these  exist 
almost  universally,  and  that,  whenever  found,  they  are 
necessary  to  the  constitution  of  the  form.  The  fact  that 
they  exist  is  so  patent  that  it  is  remarkable  that  more  at- 
tention has  not  been  directed  to  it. 

Corresponding  to  the  double  character — spiritual  and 
material — of  all  the  phenomena  of  life,  we  find  necessarily 
present  in  almost  every  sound,  whether  produced  in 
nature  or  in  art,  syllables  or  notes  of  long  and  short  dura- 
tion, loud  and  soft  force,  upward  and  downward  pitch, 


FIG.  10.— SCHOOL  OF  ATHENS.— RAPHAEL. 

See  pages  39,  82,  242,  289. 


42 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


and  full  and  thin  quality.  We  find  in  almost  every  object 
of  sight,  lines  of  opposing  length  and  shortness,  perpen- 
dicularity and  horizontality,  curvature  and  straightness; 
and  colors  of  opposing  light  and  shade,  gayety  and  grave- 
ness, brilliancy  and  dulness.  This  is  true  not  only  of 
products  considered  in  whole  but  in  part.  In  a comic 
utterance  of  the  expression  “ All  I live  by  is  the  awl,”  the 
final  single  syllable  contains  opposing  elements  of  sound 
of  every  possible  variety — duration,  force,  pitch,  and 
quality.  And  one  can  hardly  paint  a single  plum  hang- 
ing in  the  sunshine  without  something  to  suggest  every 
possible  opposing  element  of  sight. 

But  to  mention  a few  particulars,  the  measures  of 
poetry  and  music  owe  their  origin  to  a combination  of 
accented  and  unaccented  parts.  Without  both  of  these 
they  could  not  exist.  As  a rule,  too,  they  must  manifest 
every  possible  kind  of  counteraction  ; contain,  that  is, 
both  long  and  short,  loud  and  soft,  upward  and  downward, 
high  and  low,  and  full  and  thin  tones.  Very  often,  too, 
in  poetry,  and  almost  invariably  in  music,  successive 
phrases  as  they  follow  one  another,  also  oppose  one  an- 
other in  certain  characteristics  of  their  movements. 

Notice  that  this  is  true  in  the  following: 

Or,  if  on  joyful  wing, 

Cleaving  the  sky, 

Sun,  moon,  and  stars  forgot. 

Upward  I fly. 

■ — Nearer  my  God  to  Thee  : S.  F.  Adams. 

In  music,  most  of  us  know  what  is  meant  by  counter- 
point, a form  of  composition  which,  for  our  present  pur- 
poses, might  be  said  to  be  a combination  of  opposing 
effects  about  a single  point.  Most  of  us  too  are  ac- 
quainted with  the  terms  thesis  and  anti-thesis,  strophe  and 


CO  UN  TER  A C TION. 


43 


anti-strophe.  The  very  words  suggest  their  relevance  in 
this  connection.  The  principle  underlying  them  may 
be  illustrated  in  the  upward  and  downward  movements 
that  in  the  following  are  set  to  the  successive  and  con- 
trasting lines  marked  A and  B or  B-{-,  and  C,  or  C-)-. 
This  arrangement  illustrates  effects  of  counteraction,  such 
as  in  this  art  are  almost  universal. 


Near-er,  my  God,  to  Thee,  Near-er  to  Thee!  E’en  tho’  it 


p 16-^-g — *- 

-m-  , r- . 

p=2 - <&-  q 

p 

Li — t— r 

T i* 

J 

B + C C+  C 


— Bethany  : L.  Mason. 


A corresponding  fact  is  exemplified  in  products  of  the 
arts  of  sight.  We  can  scarcely  copy  or  originate  a form 
in  any  of  these  without  having  it  exemplify  all  the  oppos- 
ing possibilities  of  outline  and  hue.  Think  of  the 
innumerable  deviations  from  straight  lines  to  angles  and 
curves  in  the  contour  of  a single  animal,  and  of  the  end- 


44 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


less  variety  of  the  play  of  sunshine  upon  the  colors  of  a 
single  landscape.  This  counteraction,  moreover,  is  not 
only  actual,  but  necessary.  It  would  be  impossible  for 
any  visible  object  to  have  a definite  shape  unless  there 
were  at  least  two  opposing  tendencies  of  line  giving  it 
a contour  and  two  of  color  giving  it  light  and  shade;  and 
the  same,  as  in  poetry  and  music,  is  true  of  every  part  of 
the  whole.  This  is  so  much  more  apparent  here,  than 
in  the  arts  of  sound,  that  there  is  no  necessity  of  illustrat- 
ing it. 

In  making  a practical  application  of  the  requirements 
of  order  and  of  the  methods  associated  with  it,  some 
member  of  a class  is  always  considered  first,  after  which 
are  arranged  in  order  second,  third,  fourth,  and  other 
members.  But  of  all  these,  the  first  is  evidently  the  most 
important.  It  is  the  nucleus  about  which  the  others  are 
grouped  ; and,  theoretically  considered,  we  should  judge 
that  it  would  be  typical  of  them  all.  Practically,  too,  it 
is  so.  Classification  is  invariably  begun  by  observing  a 
few  details  characterizing  some  one  object — say  a palm- 
tree  or  a wolf— to  which  is  given  what  is  sometimes 
termed  principality.  About  this  object  are  then  grouped 
other  similar  objects  which  are  said  to  belong — as  the  case 
may  be — to  the  palm  family  or  the  wolf  family. 

As  preparatory  to  recognizing  the  exact  analogy 
between  this  method  and  what  is  done  in  art-composition, 
it  is  important  to  recognize  that,  in  connection  with  the 
observation  of  the  object  which  forms  the  nucleus  of  the 
grouping,  there  inevitably  arises  in  the  mind  a mental 
conception  which  becomes  the  ideal  criterion  to  be  applied 
to  every  member  admitted  to  the  class.  At  first,  how- 
ever, this  conception  and  the  object  are  apprehended 
together  in  such  a way  that  the  mind  cannot  dissociate 


PRINCIPALITY  AND  SUBORDINATION. 


45 


the  two.  In  the  case  just  mentioned,  for  instance,  the 
conception  of  the  palm  or  wolf  is  merely  that  which  is 
represented  in  the  form  of  this  particular  tree  or  animal, 
and  vice  versa.  So,  as  we  shall  find  by  and  by,  the  con- 
ception of  a theme  in  poetry,  music,  painting,  sculpture, 
or  architecture  is  virtually  identical  with  a particular 
form  apprehended  by  the  mind.  When  this  form  or,  if 
it  be  only  such,  this  feature  is  given  principality , it  follows, 
as  an  axiom,  that  all  other  forms  or  features  associated 
with  it  must  be  given  subordination.  This  is  so  evident, 
and  so  evidently  necessitated  as  a condition  accompany- 
ing principality  of  any  kind,  that  the  statement  needs 
no  illustration. 

Once  more,  wherever  there  is  a principal  factor  and 
also  a subordinate  or  many  subordinate  factors,  the  en- 
deavor to  arrange  them  together  leads  to  a consideration 
of  what  is  termed  balance.  Balance  is  an  effect  of  equi- 
librium obtained  by  arranging  like  features  on  both  sides 
of  areal  or  ideal  centre.  It  makes  no  difference  whether 
they  are  alike  in  quantity,  which  is  the  first  suggestion 
given  by  the  word,  or  in  quality, — in  actuality  or  in 
mere  appearance.  All  that  is  necessary  is  that  in  some 
way  they  should  be  or  seem  alike.  In  this  regard  balance 
differs  from  either  complement  or  counteraction  ; for  in  both 
of  these  the  essential  consideration  is  unlikeness.  At  the 
same  time,  all  three  have  much  in  common.  One  arm, 
for  instance,  thrust  forward  from  a bending  body  and 
one  leg  thrust  backward  from  it,  may  contrast  strongly 
both  in  appearance  and  position  ; and  in  this  regard 
may  resemble  complement.  Undoubtedly  too  they 
counteract  each  other.  But  because  they  present  an 
appearance  of  equilibrium  in  that  like  quantities  seem 
to  be  on  each  side  of  the  centre,  our  first  thou  ght  is 


46 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


not  that  they  complement  or  counteract  but  that  they  bal- 
ance. Notice  this  too  in  the  groupings  in  Fig.  49,  page  161. 

The  close  connection  between  these  three,  complement , 
counteraction , and  balance , accounts  for  the  fact  that  in 
ordinary  language  and  conception  they  are  not  clearly 
distinguished.  Nor  is  it  often  important  that  they  should 
be.  In  one  regard,  at  least,  they  are  all  alike.  They  are 
all  developments  of  the  same  principle.  Complement 
produces  unity  in  a natural  way  from  things  different. 
Counteraction  applies  the  principle  underlying  complement 
to  things  that  are  not  complementary  by  nature,  and 
produces,  as  we  have  seen,  effects  that  are  essential  to  the 
very  existence  of  form.  Balance,  going  still  farther, 
applies  the  same  principle  to  things  that  are  neither  com- 
plementary nor  counteractive,  in  such  a way  as  to  give  a 
more  satisfactory  appearance  to  the  form  by  adding  to  it 
the  effect  of  equilibrium.  A still  later  development  of  the 
same  principle,  preceding  which,  however,  there  need  to 
be  some  intervening  stages,  results  in  symmetry. 

In  this  regard  these  four,  complement , counteraction,  bal- 
ance, and  symmetry,  are  related,  as  we  shall  find  hereafter, 
in  much  the  same  way  as  are  comparison,  congruity,  repeti- 
tion, and  consonance,  as  well  as  many  other  of  the  art- 
methods  arranged  in  the  same  columns  in  the  list  on 
page  1 3 1.  Complement  and  balance  are  especially  related 
because  they  are  practically  inseparable.  Between  com- 
plements, as  between  red  and  blue-green,  there  is  often 
great  apparent  difference,  but  at  the  same  time,  there 
must  be  a ground  of  resemblance.  Between  balancing 
factors,  as  between  red  on  one  side  of  a picture  and  red 
also  on  its  other  side,  there  is  usually  great  apparent  like- 
ness, but  at  the  same  time  there  is  often  a ground  of  differ- 
ence. These  being  the  conditions,  the  factors  to  which 


COMPLEM EArT  AND  BALANCE. 


47 


the  one  or  the  other  term  can  apply,  according  as  they 
are  less  or  more  alike,  fluctuate  all  the  way  between  two 
extremes,  at  one  of  which  there  is  only  complement , and 
at  the  other  only  balance.  But  where  the  two  separate 


FIG.  11.— GATE  OF  SERRANO,  VALENCIA,  SPAIN. 
See  pages  48,  79,  87,  96. 


it  is  impossible  to  determine.  All  that  we  can  know 
definitely  is  that  somewhere  between  the  extremes,  we  are 
furnished  with  all  the  data  necessary  to  explain  any  and 
all  of  the  arrangements  based  upon  the  principle  from 
which  both  spring.  For  this  reason,  in  giving  illustrations 


43 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


from  the  different  arts,  no  endeavor  need  be  made  here  to 
separate  clearly  those  that  exemplify  complement  from 
those  that  exemplify  balance.  The  two  terms  will  be  used 
almost  interchangeably,  in  recognition  of  the  fact  that 
sometimes  that  which  the  one  represents,  and  some- 
times that  which  the  other  represents,  is  more  promi- 
nent ; and  that  both  are  really  necessary  in  order  to 
account  for  all  the  conditions.  For  instance,  a desire  to 
perceive  effects  of  balance  alone,  as  the  word  is  ordinarily 
understood,  does  not  fully  explain  why  both  in  the  exter- 
nal world  and  in  the  products  of  art,  men  derive  satisfac- 
tion from  twin  trees,  towers,  houses,  and  figures  of  men  and 
animals  ; as  in  Fig.  1 1,  page  4 7 ; as  well  as  in  the  “ Invest- 
ment of  a Bishop  by  a King,”  Fig.  25,  page  80.  Read, 
too,  what  is  said  of  a painting  by  Turner  when  illustra- 
ting repetition  in  connection  with  Fig.  66,  page  203.  But 
the  moment  that  we  recall  that  nature  is  full  of  twin 
effects,  some  of  them  as  unlike  as  a pair  of  chickens,  some 
as  like  as  a pair  of  sparrows,  we  see,  sufficiently  for  our 
purpose,  without  making  too  nice  distinctions,  how,  in  the 
principle  underlying  both  complement  and  balance , art  got 
the  warrant  for  its  method.  The  effects  in  nature  illus- 
trating this  principle  thus  considered,  too,  may  differ  in 
almost  all  degrees  possible.  They  may  be  as  unlike  as 
heads  and  feet,  or  as  the  top  and  the  bottom  of  a tree ; 
or  as  alike  as  two  eyes,  ears,  arms,  and  wings.  To  the 
relations  between  some  of  them  we  should  naturally 
apply  the  term  balance  ; but  it  is  not  even  questionable 
whether,  had  art  not  rendered  it  allowable,  we  should 
apply  it  in  all  cases. 

In  arranging  principal , subordinate , and  balancing  fac- 
tors, the  principal  and  one  or  more  of  the  subordinate  are 
sometimes  balanced  ; sometimes  two  or  more  of  the  sub- 


FIQ.  12.— THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  SACRED  HEART,  MONTMARTRE,  PARIS. 

See  pages  iS,  50,  190,  264. 


4 


50 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


ordinate ; and  sometimes  both  these  conditions  exist. 
This  general  fact  can  scarcely  fail  to  reveal  itself  to  the 
most  superficial  glance  at  any  art-product.  A few  notes 
— only  the  suggestion,  perhaps,  of  a melody — furnish  a 
form  and  with  it  a principal  theme  expressive  of  some 
musical  idea.  Other  subordinate  series  of  notes,  supposed 
for  some  reason  to  be  more  or  less  like  the  first,  or,  if  not, 
at  least  complementing,  counteracting,  or  balancing  it  or  one 
another,  are  arranged  in  order  about  it,  and  through  the 
use  of  them  is  developed  a work  like  a symphony.  A few 
phrases  containing  certain  accented  and  unaccented  sylla- 
bles, perhaps  only  one  word  like  the  '*  Nevermore  ” of  Poe’s 
“ Raven,”  furnish  a form  and  with  it  a principal  theme 
expressive  of  some  poetic  idea  ; and  by  a similar  process 
there  is  developed  a whole  epic  or  lyric.  A few  lines  or 
colors  constituting  a face  or  feature,  sometimes  merely  a 
flush,  smile,  or  gesture  full  of  grace  and  meaning,  furnish 
a form  and  with  it  a principal  theme  suggestive  of  picto- 
rial treatment;  a few  angles  or  arches  constituting  part  of 
a door,  a window,  a gable,  a tower,  furnish  the  same,  sug- 
gestive of  architectural  treatment,  and  from  them  in  a 
similar  way  are  developed  a painting,  a statue,  a palace,  a 
cathedral.  Notice  how  all  the  forms  used  in  the  interior 
of  the  “ Church  of  the  Sacred  Heart,”  of  Paris  (Fig.  12, 
page  49),  are  built  upon  the  primitive  conception  in  the 
Norman  arch. 

As  with  the  other  art-methods,  these  methods,  too,  are 
suggested  by  conditions  found  in  nature.  In  hearing 
the  song  of  a bird  or  a man,  we  may  observe  chiefly  the 
time  filled  by  the  different  tones  or  their  movements  up 
and  down  the  scale  ; in  looking  at  a tree  we  may  observe 
chiefly  the  outlines  formed  by  its  leaves,  branches,  or 
general  contour,  or  by  its  color  ; but  whatever  we  may 


COMPLEMENT  AND  BALANCE. 


51 


observe,  it  seems  to  be  a law  of  the  mind  that  usually 
only  one  of  the  many  features  perceived  attracts  special 
attention.  The  fact  that  this  is  so,  has  much  to  do  with 
causing  the  song  or  tree — notwithstanding  the  different 
effects  of  its  component  parts — to  appear  to  be  one 
thing  and  not  many.  That  which  attracts  special  atten- 
tion in  these  cases — whatever  it  may  be — is  that  which 
seems  to  the  observer  to  have  principality.  Everything 
else,  of  course,  appears  subordinate , while  the  degree  in 
which  all  the  factors  together — whether  principal  or  sub- 
ordinate-blend so  as  to  suggest  the  completeness  or 
equilibrium  of  the  whole  gives  the  measure  of  the 
complement  or  balance.  * 


CHAPTER  IV. 


PRINCIPALITY,  SUBORDINATION,  AND  COMPLEMENT  OR 
BALANCE  IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC. 

Principality  in  the  Arts  of  Sound  Involves  Something  Kept  Constantly 
before  the  Mind — Principality  of  Theme  in  an  Epic — In  a Drama — Of 
Form  in  the  Blank  Verse  of  Long  Poems — Of  Short  Poems  as  in  the 
Chorus — In  the  French  Forms,  Rondel,  Triolet,  Kyrielle — In  the 
General  Movement  as  Representing  the  General  Thought — Illustrations 
— Principality  as  Illustrated  by  Musical  Variations — And  in  Other 
Longer  and  Shorter  Compositions — Subordination  and  Complement 
or  Balance  in  Poetic  Themes — In  Poetic  Form — In  Pairs  of  Lines  in 
Verse — Correspondence  between  Poetry  and  Music  in  this  Regard — 
Balance  in  Poetic  Feet  and  Pairs  of  Words — The  Same  Method  in 
Musical  Themes  and  Phrases — Illustrations  of  its  Application — Of  its 
Non-application — Complement  between  the  Different  Phrases  and 
Chords  and  Measures. 


HE  facts  indicated  in  Chapter  III.  can  be  brought 


out  more  clearly  as  we  go  on  to  apply  what  was  said 
there  to  the  separate  arts.  Poetry  and  music  are  made  up 
of  sounds  moving  along,  one  after  another.  These  sounds 
may  be  varied  almost  infinitely  in  their  details,  yet  a 
composition,  to  be  in  the  highest  sense  artistic,  convey- 
ing to  us  that  impression  of  unity  which  is  essential  to 
the  manifestation  of  form,  must  never  be  equally  plain- 
tive and  gay,  hostile  and  sympathetic,  funereal  and  festive. 
One  of  these  tendencies  must  have  principality.  At  the 
same  time  it  is  evident  that,  amid  sounds  constantly  mov- 
ing, any  effect  of  such  a nature  as  to  cause  the  whole  to 


52 


PRINCIPALITY  IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC. 


53 


produce  a single  dominant  impression  must  be  connected 
with  something  kept  constantly  before  the  mind.  In  other 
words,  the  principal  feature,  so  far  as  it  pertains  to  the 
thought,  must  be  suggested  by  constant  references  to  the 
thought  ; so  far  as  to  the  form,  by  constant  recurrences 
of  it. 

In  an  epic  the  principal  thought  may  be  some  grand 
event  of  historic  or  religious  importance,  to  which  all  the 
other  events  that  are  mentioned  are  subordinate,  mainly 
serving,  by  way  of  comparison  or  contrast,  to  give  it 
greater  prominence.  Notice  how  the  keynote  of  the 
whole  of  Homer’s  “ Odyssey  ” is  struck  and  foreshadowed 
in  its  opening  sentence  : 

Tell  me,  O muse,  of  that  sagacious  man 
Who,  having  overthrown  the  sacred  town 
Of  Ilium,  wandered  far  and  visited 
The  capitals  of  many  nations,  learned 
The  customs  of  their  dwellers,  and  endured 
Great  suffering  on  the  deep  ; his  life  was  oft 
In  peril,  as  he  labored  to  bring  back 
His  comrades  to  their  homes. 

— Bryant's  Trans. 

The  same  method,  as  exemplified  in  the  beginnings  of 
both  Homer’s  “ Iliad  ” and  Virgil’s  “ ./Enead,”  will  recur 
to  most  of  us.  Here  too  is  Milton’s  first  sentence  in  the 
“ Paradise  Lost  ” : 

Of  man’s  first  disobedience,  and  the  fruit 
Of  that  forbidden  tree,  whose  mortal  taste 
Brought  death  into  the  world  and  all  our  woe. 

With  loss  of  Eden,  till  one  greater  man 
Restore  us  and  regain  the  blissful  seat, 

Sing,  Heavenly  Muse. 

Equally  effective,  for  a similar  reason,  is  the  opening  of 
the  “ Sigurd  the  Volsung  ” of  William  Morris  : 


54 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM . 


There  was  a dwelling  of  kings  ere  the  world  was  waxen  old  ; 

Dukes  were  the  door-wards  there,  and  the  roofs  were  thatched  with  gold  ; 
Earls  were  the  wrights  that  wrought  it,  and  silver  nailed  its  doors  ; 

Earls’  wives  were  the  weaving  women,  queens’  daughters  strewed  its  floors, 
And  the  masters  of  its  song-craft  were  the  mightiest  men  that  cast 
The  souls  of  the  storm  of  battle  adown  the  bickering  blast. 

In  a drama,  principality  may  be  given  to  some  character 
like  Hamlet  or  Lear,  to  whom  all  the  other  characters  and 
all  their  actions  are  in  some  way  subordinated.  Let  it  be 
borne  in  mind,  however,  that  in  all  such  cases  the  effect  is 
enhanced  by  the  degree  in  which  whatever  has  principality 
in  thought  is  embodied  in  a principal  form.  In  poetry 
this  latter  may  be  a certain  number  of  words  constituting 
a line  of  verse  ; and  in  music  a certain  number  of  notes 
constituting  a phrase. 

Long  poems,  in  which  the  thought  can  be  brought  out 
only  by  describing  a series  of  very  different  events  or 
quoting  words  of  very  different  characters,  necessitate 
a form  capable  of  being  varied  to  the  greatest  possible 
extent  without  losing  its  distinguishing  characteristics. 
Such  a form  we  have  in  blank  verse,  either  regular  or 
broken  ; and,  as  much  because  it  fulfils  the  requirements 
of  principality  as  for  any  other  reason,  it  is  generally 
recognized,  in  the  poems  in  which  it  is  used,  as  something 
which  imparts  to  them,  however  long  or  complicated  they 
may  be,  an  effect  of  unity.  For  this  reason,  as  well  as  for 
others,  those  who  imagine  that  a “ Paradise  Lost  ” or 
“ Idyls  of  the  King  ” would  be  as  valuable  a contribu- 
tion to  art  as  it  is,  were  it  composed  without  metre  or 
verse,  like  some  of  the  works  of  Whitman,  are  either  des- 
titute by  nature  of  aesthetic  sensibility  or  have  not  had 
their  natural  endowment  sufficiently  cultivated.  Before 
they  can  become  entitled  to  leadership  in  the  fields  of 
criticism,  they  need  either  to  be  born  again  or  bred  again. 


PRINCIPALITY  IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC. 


55 


It  is  mainly,  however,  from  shorter  poems  in  which  all 
effects  are  less  complex  that  we  may  get  the  clearest  illus- 
trations of  the  method  under  consideration.  The  ordinary 
chorus  or  refrain  at  the  end  of  successive  stanzas,  as  a 
rule,  illustrates  principality.  It  epitomizes  in  a form  con- 
stantly recurring  all  that  the  whole  poem  to  which  it  is 
attached  is  intended  to  express  ; e.  g.  : 

Home,  home  ! sweet,  sweet  home  ! 

Be  it  ever  so  humble,  there ’s  no  place  like  home  ! 

— Home , Sweet  Home  : Payne. 

The  Star-Spangled  Banner,  oh  ! long  may  it  wave 

O’er  the  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the  brave. 

— The  Star-Spangled  Banner  : Key, 

A similar  effect  is  still  more  emphasized  in  some  of  the 
different  French  forms  of  verse,  which  of  late  years  many 
of  our  younger  poets  with  a somewhat  overweening  inter- 
est in  mere  mechanism  have  been  imitating.  As  will  be 
shown  by  and  by,  and  as  will  be  recognized  by  a single 
glance  at  the  following  poems,  especially  at  their  rhymes, 
repetition  is  their  main  characteristic.  But  they  also  illus- 
trate very  clearly  the  influence  of  principality. 

How  is  it  you  and  I 

Are  always  meeting  so  ? 

I see  you  passing  by 
Whichever  way  I go. 

I cannot  say  I know 

The  spell  that  draws  us  nigh. 

How  is  it  you  and  I 

Are  always  meeting  so  ? 

Still  thoughts  to  thoughts  reply, 

And  whispers  ebb  and  flow  ; 

I say  it  with  a sigh, 

But  half  confessed  and  low, 


56 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


How  is  it  )'ou  and  I 
Are  always  meeting  so  ? 

• — Rondel  : John  Cameron  Grant \ 

Lo,  my  heart,  so  sound  asleep, 

Lady,  will  you  wake  it  ? 

For  lost  love  I used  to  weep. 

Now  my  heart  is  sound  asleep. 

If  it  once  were  yours  to  keep, 

I fear  you  ’d  break  it. 

Lo,  my  heart,  so  sound  asleep, 

Lady,  will  you  wake  it  ? 

— Triolet  : Justin  Hunt'ly  McCarthy. 

In  spring,  Love  came,  a welcome  guest, 

And  tarried  long  at  my  behest  ; 

Now  autumn  wanes,  the  skies  are  gray, 

But  loyal  Love  flees  not  away. 

I charmed  him  with  melodious  lays, 

Through  long,  rose-scented  summer  days  ; 

My  songs  no  more  are  clear  and  gay, 

But  loyal  Love  flees  not  away. 

We  plucked  and  twined  the  myrtle  flowers, 

Made  joyance  in  the  sylvan  bowers  ; 

The  blooms  have  died,  wild  winds  hold  sway, 

But  loyal  Love  flees  not  away. 

Gone  are  the  fifing  crickets,  gone 
The  feathered  harbingers  of  dawn, 

And  gone  the  woodland’s  bright  display. 

But  loyal  Love  flees  not  away. 

With  intermingled  light  and  shade 
The  shifting  seasons  come  and  fade  : 

Our  fond  hopes  fail,  false  friends  betray, 

But  loyal  Love  flees  not  away. 

— Kyriclle  : Clinton  Scotland. 


Notice  illustrations  of  the  same  method  in  the  French 
forms  quoted  on  pages  63,  107,  and  196. 


PRINCIPALITY  IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC. 


57 


But  many  poems  have  no  chorus  nor  refrain.  In  these 
the  effect  of  principality  is  dependent  mainly,  sometimes 
exclusively,  upon  the  method  of  movement,  i.  e.,  upon  the 
metre.  In  the  following  a ride  on  horseback  is  the  principal 
conception.  Observe  how  it  is  embodied  in  the  move- 
ment of  the  opening  sentence  : 

I sprang  to  the  stirrup,  and  Joris,  and  he  ; 

I galloped,  Dirck  galloped,  we  galloped  all  three. 

— How  They  Brought  the  Good  News  from  Ghent  : Browning. 

And  how  the  gait  of  the  horses  is  echoed  in  the  rhythm 
of  the  whole  : 

So  we  were  left  galloping,  Joris  and  I, 

Past  Loos  and  past  Tangres,  no  cloud  in  the  sky  ; 

The  broad  sun  above  laughed  a pitiless  laugh  ; 

’Neath  our  feet  broke  the  brittle  bright  stubble  like  chaff  ; 

Till  over  by  Dalhem  a dome  spire  sprang  white, 

And  “ Gallop,”  gasped  Joris,  “ for  Aix  is  in  sight.” 

— Idem. 

Here  the  principal  conception  has  reference  to  death. 
Notice  how  the  slow  and  solemn  movement  of  the  rhythm 
everywhere  represents  this  : 

The  storm  that  wrecks  the  winter  sky 
No  more  disturbs  their  deep  repose 
Than  summer  evening’s  latest  sigh 
That  shuts  the  rose. 

I long  to  lay  this  painful  head 

And  aching  heart  beneath  the  soil, 

To  slumber  in  that  dreamless  bed 
From  all  my  toil. 

— The  Grave  : Montgomery. 

And  what  could  better  give  principality  to  a half  doubt- 
ing, half  confiding  mood  than  the  arrangement  of  rhythm 
and  rhymes  in  this? 


53 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


With  weary  steps  T loiter  on, 

Tho'  always  under  altered  skies. 
The  purple  from  the  distance  dies, 
My  prospect  and  horizon  gone. 

No  joy  the  blowing  season  gives 
The  herald  melodies  of  spring, 

But  in  the  songs  I loved  to  sing 
A doubtful  gleam  of  solace  lives. 


If  any  care  for  what  is  here 

Survive  in  spirits  rendered  free, 

Then  are  these  songs  I sing  of  thee 
Not  all  ungrateful  to  thine  ear. 

■ — In  Memoriam , xxxviii.  : Tennyson. 


Here  the  idea  of  rocking  a babe  to  sleep  is  upper- 
most : 


Sleep  and  rest,  sleep  and  rest, 

Father  will  come  to  thee  soon  ; 

Rest,  rest  on  mother’s  breast, 

Father  will  come  to  thee  soon  ; 

Father  will  come  to  his  babe  in  the  nest, 

Silver  sails  all  out  of  the  west 
Under  the  silver  moon  : 

Sleep,  my  little  one,  sleep,  my  pretty  one,  sleep. 

— Lullaby  from  The  Princess  : Tennyson. 

Here  is  a movement  to  accompany  a triumphant  march  : 

Hail  to  the  chief  who  in  triumph  advances. 

Honored  and  blest  be  the  evergreen  pine. 

Long  may  the  tree  in  his  banner  that  glances 
Flourish,  the  shelter  and  grace  of  our  line. 

— Song  of  Clast  A Ipine  : Scott. 

Here  is  an  exhortation  to  strike  successive  blows  at 
tyrants : 


PRINCIPALITY  IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC. 


59 


Lay  the  proud  usurpers  low. 

Tyrants  fall  in  every  foe, 

Liberty 's  in  every  blow. 

Forward,  let  us  do  or  die. 

— Bannockburn  : Burns. 

And  this  represents  riding  on  a railway  : 

Singing  through  the  forests, 

Rattling  over  ridges  ; 

Shooting  under  arches, 

Rumbling  over  bridges  ; 

Whizzing  through  the  mountains, 

Buzzing  o'er  the  vale, — 

Bless  me,  this  is  pleasant. 

Riding  on  the  rail. 

— Railroad  Rhyme  : Saxe. 

Most  of  us  will  probably  obtain  the  best  conception 
of  principality  and  subordination  in  music,  by  recalling 
the  difference  between  a melody,  as  it  is  either  sung  or 
played  upon  an  instrument,  and  that  which  is  called  its 
accompaniment.  In  this  case,  the  former,  of  course,  is 
the  principal  thing,  and  the  latter,  the  subordinate.  A 
more  complete  illustration  of  the  same  difference,  because 
necessitating  more  elaboration  in  the  subordinate  features, 
is  furnished  by  one  of  those  compositions  which  are 
popularly  called  variations.  In  these,  as  we  hear  the 
repeated  strains  of  a familiar  melody,  we  have  no  difficulty 
in  detecting  the  principal  theme,  notwithstanding  great 
differences  in  the  effects  of  duration,  force,  pitch,  or 
quality.  The  following  from  the  “ Paraphrase  de  Con- 
cert,” by  Charles  Gimbel,  of  Foster’s  popular  “ Old  Black 
Joe,”  will  illustrate  this  fact  to  the  eye  almost  as  clearly 
as  to  the  ear.  The  lower,  bass  notes  contain  the  melody, 
which  is  the  principal  thing  ; and  the  upper  notes  the 
accompanying  variations,  which,  like  features  in  the  back- 
ground of  a painting,  are  subordinate  to  the  melody. 


6o 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


b 


- ns*b*  s-toff 

. •I**5* 

B^£gp£_y£p_ — . — c — c=i — — iftp.flp.gg.  gg — ; — i — i — ur  

pr  rr  — i1 — 1 — r rr  — n r r n1,  l — r r hr  f — f— 

C'-En  , 

, • 

— .71  - 

8 


8 : 8 


PRINCIPALITY  IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC. 


6l 


The  same  general  method  is  pursued  in  almost  every 
composition.  In  many  of  the  more  important  of  them, 
however,  as  in  Beethoven’s  Symphony  No.  5,  in  C minor, 


the  theme  is  more  simple,  consisting  of  only  a few  notes  ; 
and,  at  the  same  time,  the  developments  are  more  complex, 
involving  a greater  departure  from  it.  Both  facts  cause 
it  to  be  more  difficult  to  keep  in  mind  and  to  recognize 
when  it  reappears.  But  unless  one  conversant  with  the 
methods  of  music  can  do  this,  the  result  is  more  or  less 
inartistic.  In  shorter  compositions,  like  ballads  and 
hymns,  the  effect  may  be  perceived  by  all.  Notice,  in 
the  music  printed  on  page  43,  how  the  same  movements, 
varied  but  slightly,  are  constantly  recurring  in  successive 
lines,  or  pairs,  or  series  of  lines,  like  those  marked  by  the 
same  letters — namely  A B,  or  A B-j-. 

Now,  let  us  consider  complement  and  balance  in  these 
arts.  As  has  been  said,  the  complementary  or  balancing 
factors  are  sometimes  the  principal  and  a subordinate 
one,  and  sometimes  are  both  subordinate.  In  the  play  of 
“ Hamlet,”  the  cool-headed,  well-poised,  consistent  char- 
acter of  the  intellectual  Horatio  complements  that  of  the 
hot-headed,  ill-poised,  irresolute,  but  intellectual  hero. 
At  the  time  time,  certain  of  the  other  characters,  as 
Laertes  and  Ophelia,  and  the  King  and  Queen,  com- 
plement each  other.  In  a sense,  too,  as  if  to  show  the 
connection  of  the  parts  with  the  whole  as  well  as  with 
other  parts,  they  also  complement  certain  characteristics 
of  Hamlet. 

Applying  the  same  methods  to  form,  we  could  say  that 
in  the  following  poem  the  principal  metre  consists  of  a 


62 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


line  of  four  feet,  or  eight  syllables;  and  if  printed  thus — 
as  it  might  be — all  the  lines  would  contain  exactly  the 
same  rhythmic  quantities,  and  therefore  would  exactly 
balance. 

From  gold  to  gray  our  mild  sweet  day 
Of  Indian  summer  fades  too  soon. 

But  printed  as  it  ordinarily  is,  the  first  two  lines,  while 
together  balancing  the  third,  still  more  effectually  balance 
each  other. 

From  gold  to  gray 
Our  mild  sweet  day 
Of  Indian  summer  fades  too  soon  ; 

But  tenderly 
Above  the  sea 

Hangs,  white  and  calm,  the  hunter’s  moon. 

— Indian  Summer  : Whittier. 

The  very  common  arrangement  represented  in  this 
stanza,  in  accordance  with  which  couplets,  or  two  lines 
and  not  three,  rhyme,  while  the  rhyming  lines,  however 
widely  separated,  are  of  equal  lengths,  is  clearly  traceable 
to  the  prevalence  in  this  art  of  this  quantitative  kind  of 
balance. 

Here  again,  too,  the  French  forms  of  verse  will  prove 
serviceable  by  way  of  illustration.  Any  one  who  will 
compare  the  following  poetry  with  the  music  on  page  64 
will  have  no  difficulty  in  detecting  in  both  the  same 
method  of  securing  complementary  or  balancing  effects 
as  are  there  explained.  Just  as  in  this,  the  phrase  used 
in  the  first  line  is  repeated  in  the  fourth  and  seventh 
lines,  while  the  first  two  lines  are  the  same  as  the  last 
two  ; so  in  the  music  the  phrase  set  to  the  words  in  the 
first  line  is  repeated  in  that  set  to  the  third  and  seventh 
lines,  while  the  first  two  lines  are  very  nearly  the  same  as 


BALANCE  IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC.  63 

the  last  two,  Forms  so  evidently  alike  in  principle  may 
have  arisen  in  poetry  through  attempts  to  imitate 
methods  with  which  music  first  made  the  poets  familiar. 
But  it  is  more  likely  that  these  forms  in  both  music  and 
poetry  sprang  from  a common  source,  the  source  to  which 
are  attributable  all  the  methods  of  art-composition.  This 
supposition  is  all  the  more  likely  inasmuch  as  the  same 
characteristics,  as  will  presently  be  shown,  appear  in  the 
arts  of  sight,  but  so  differently  manifested  that  by  no 
stretch  of  imagination  is  it  conceivable  that  their  appear- 
ance in  the  latter  should  have  resulted  from  conscious 
imitation.  Here  is  the  poetry  : 

Oh,  Love ’s  but  a dance. 

Where  Time  plays  the  fiddle  : 

See  the  couples  advance, — • 

Oh,  Love ’s  but  a dance  : 

A whisper,  a glance, — 

“ Shall  we  twirl  down  the  middle  ?” 

Oh,  Love ’s  but  a dance, 

Where  Time  plays  the  fiddle. 

— Triolet:  Austin  Dobson. 

Once  more,  it  is  evident  that  the  forms  of  verse  as 
manifested  in  the  arrangement,  not  only  of  its  lines,  but 
of  its  feet,  constructed  as  these  are  out  of  regularly 
counteracting  and  alternating  accented  and  unaccented 
syllables,  owe  their  origin  in  part  to  the  principle  of 
balance.  And  what  but  a recognition  of  the  artistic 
possibilities  of  a fulfilment  of  the  same  principle  leads 
poets,  and  prose-writers  too,  to  use  so  many  pairs  of 
words  having  the  same  sense  or  sound  ? With  Swinburne 
this  arrangement  is  so  common  as  to  have  become  a 
mannerism  : 

Naked,  shamed,  cast  out  of  consecration, 

Corpse  and  coffin,  yea  the  very  graves, 


64 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


Scoffed  at,  scattered,  shaken  from  their  station, 

Spurned  and  scourged  of  wind  and  sea  like  slaves, 

Desolate  beyond  man’s  desolation, 

Shrink  and  sink  into  the  waste  of  waves. 

— By  the  North  Sea  : Swinburne. 

1 he  same  methods  are  equally  manifest  in  musical 
effects.  To  go  back  to  the  compositions  termed  Vari- 
ations that  were  mentioned  a moment  ago,  if  the  melody 
in  them  that  furnishes  the  theme  be  the  principal  thing, 
it  is  evident  that  all  the  different  forms  of  variation,  while 
subordinate,  are  also  complementary  to  the  melody.  It  is 
equally  evident  that  they  are  all  complementary  to  one  an- 
other. Indeed,  the  frequency  with  which  a high  or  fast 
movement  is  placed  in  immediate  juxtaposition  to  a 
low  or  slow  movement  cannot  be  explained  except  by 
supposing  an  intention  to  produce  this  effect. 

In  the  following  typically  arranged  melody,  the  prin- 
cipal theme  may  be  said  to  be  contained  in  the  first  five 
bars.  Notice  how  this  is  at  once  repeated  so  as  to 
emphasize  its  principality  ; but  with  one  complementary 
change  in  the  ninth  and  tenth  bars.  Then  follow  five 
more  bars  wholly  complementary  of  the  theme  ; then  five 
more  in  which  the  theme  is  repeated  again  with  a slight 
change  in  the  last  two  measures.  A precisely  similar 
arrangement,  too,  except  that  the  principal  theme  occu- 
pies four  instead  of  five  bars,  will  be  found  in  the  music 
on  page  43. 


Principal. 


Subordinate  and  Complementary. 


~F:~j — — w — * 

1“  • * 


From  Greenland’s  i-c  y mountains,  From  In-dia’s  co  - ral  strand, 


g g g — r-g- 

r^^r— cElEEE 


COMPLEMENT  IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC.  6$ 


Principal. 


Subordinate  and  Complementary , 
-I 1 


m 


i 


Where  Af  - ric’s  sun- ny  fountains  Roll  down  their  gold-en  sand  ; 


Complementary.  Complementary. 


From  many  an  an-cient  riv  - er,Frommanya  palm-y  plain, 


w • * * 

[ 

• i 

Principal.  Subordinate  and  Complementary. 


They  call  us  to  de  - liv  - er  Their  land  from  er  - ror’s  chain. 


— Missionary  Hymn:  Lowell  Mason. 


Not  only  are  the  movements  set  to  the  fifth  and  sixth 
lines  of  this  stanza  complementary  of  the  principal  theme, 
but,  as  will  be  noticed,  those  set  to  the  second  and 
fourth,  as  well  as  to  the  sixth  and  eighth  lines,  are 
mutually  complementary.  So  important  is  complement 
of  this  sort  to  the  effect  of  music,  that  it  is  hardly 
possible  for  a phrase  to  be  introduced  into  a composition 
without  an  accompanying  complement  and  not  produce 
an  effect  of  incompleteness  that  will  be  felt,  even  though, 
as  is  very  likely,  it  cannot  be  explained.  However 
we  may  admire  the  following,  who  can  ever  hear  its 
eighth  line  without  wishing  that  it  had  been  omitted, 
or  that  another  line  had  been  added  somewhere  ? The 


s 


66 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


reason  for  this  is  that  there  is  nothing  to  balance  or 
complement  it. 


COMPLEMENT  IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC. 


67 


In  addition  to  what  has  been  said,  notice  also  how  uni- 
formly in  almost  all  compositions  of  this  kind  every  two  or 
three  measures  in  which  the  notes  move  upward  are  fob 
lowed  by  two  or  three  in  which  they  move  downward. 


Komm,lie-ber  Mai,  und  ma  - che  die  Bau-me  wie-der  griin. 


— 

t. : — 

- It'S  _ - ° 

P>- 

— 1 — 9 - 

— W — — W — ^ — ft— 

> m 

und  lass  mir  an  dem  Ba  - che  die  klei-nen  Veil-chen  bliih’n! 


Wie  mocht’  ich  doch  so  ger  - ne  ein  Veil-chen  wie-der  seh’n. 


ach!  lie-ber  Mai,  wie  ger  - ne  ein  - mal  spa- zie- ren  geh’n! 


— Seknsucht  nach  deni  Friihlings : Mozart. 


Very  often,  too,  one  part  is  complemented  or  balanced 
by  another.  In  the  following,  when  the  soprano  ascends 
the  scale,  the  bass  usually  descends  it,  and  vice  versa  : 


i 

\ — i — 

— i— 

Od § * • g 

*>  • g'  i 

My  soul, 
1=-’  * ■(< 

De  on  .thy  guard,  Ten  thousand  foes  a- 

b.  m ^ _ 

rise  ; 

rhe 
& 

i — — w n ^ 

i i 

1 1 

i u 

i t 

1 

Laban  : Lowell  Mason. 


68 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART- FORM. 


As  for  the  individual  measures,  all  that  was  said  of 
those  of  poetry  applies  also  to  these.  In  fact,  through- 
out all  phases  of  detail,  the  arts  possessing  forms  that 
move,  show  scarcely  less  tendency  to  balance  regularly 
from  one  extreme  to  another  than  does  a man  when  he 
moves  in  walking. 


CHAPTER  V. 


PRINCIPALITY,  SUBORDINATION,  AND  COMPLEMENT  OR 
BALANCE  IN  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE,  AND 
ARCHITECTURE. 

General  Illustrations  of  the  Effects  of  the  Three  Methods — Principality  by 
Size,  Position,  Direction  of  Lines,  Color,  and  Shading — Illustrations — 
In  Sculpture — In  Architecture,  through  a Porch,  Door,  Window,  Dome, 
Spire,  etc. — Vertical  and  Horizontal  Balance — Complement  between 
Principal  and  Subordinate  Features — Between  the  Subordinate,  with 
the  Principal  Separating  them — Groupings  of  Odd  and  of  Even  Num- 
bers— Complement  and  Balance  in  Painting — In  Sculpture — In  Archi- 
tecture— Approaching  Symmetry  in  Large  Public  Buildings  which 
Demand  Effects  of  Dignity — Principality  and  Complement  in  Modern 
Public  Buildings — Criticisms — Suggestions — Even  and  Odd  Numbers 
in  the  Horizontal  and  Vertical  Arrangements  of  Architecture. 

'"JPHE  importance  and  relationship  of  principality,  sub- 
ordination, and  balance  or  complement  are  much 
more  apparent  in  the  arts  of  sight  than  in  those  of  sound. 
Ruskin,  in  his  “ Elements  of  Drawing,”  Letter  III.,  il- 
lustrates these  effects,  although  he  applies  what  he  says 
only  to  principality,  by  drawing  certain  groups  of  leaves. 

y 

a /> 

FIG.  13. 

“a,”  he  says,  “ is  unsatisfactory,  because  it  has  no  lead- 
ing leaf ; b is  prettier,  because  it  has  a head-  or  master- 

69 


;o 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


leaf ; and  c more  satisfactory  still,  because  the  subordina- 
tion of  the  other  members  to  this  head-leaf  is  made  more 
manifest  by  their  gradual  loss  of  size  as  they  fall  back 
from  it.”  To  this  may  be  added  a fourth  figure,  d,  with 
the  declaration  that  it  is  unsatisfactory  because  it  contains 
nothing  to  complement  or  balance  the  lower  leaf. 

Sometimes,  in  art,  the  principal  object  is  brought  into 
prominence  by  being  made  larger  than  the  subordinate 
objects.  This  was  the  old  Egyptian  method.  According 
to  Miss  Edwards,  in  her  “ Thousand  Miles  up  the  Nile,”  in 
the  pictures  still  remaining  in  the  tomb  of  Ti,  near  the 
site  of  ancient  Memphis,  the  figures  of  the  principal  char- 
acter are,  in  all  cases,  about  eight  times  as  large  as  those 
of  the  servants  represented  as  at  work  around  him.  Of 
the  same  nature  is  the  representation  in  this  Fig.  14, 


FIG.  14.— PIANKLI  RECEIVING  THE  SUBMISSION  OF  NAMRUT  AND  OTHERS. 

See  pages  70,  189. 


of  “ Piankli,  Monarch  of  Napata,  Receiving  the  Sub- 
mission of  Namrut,  the  Hermopolitan  King.”  This  king 
is  depicted  in  the  small  figure  in  the  upper  line  at  the 
right  as  leading  a horse  with  one  hand,  and  holding  in 
the  other  a sistrum,  which  it  was  customary  to  carry  when 
approaching  a god.  In  the  line  below,  those  who  have 


FIG.  15—  HENRY  II.  RECEIVES  FROM  GOD  THE  CROWN,  HOLY  LANCE,  AND 
IMPERIAL  SWORD.  (From  “Henry’s  Missal.”) 

See  pages  72,  189. 


72 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


been  conquered  are  depicted  in  a more  slavish  attitude. 
An  effect  of  a similar  kind  is  produced  at  the  expense  of 
making  the  divine  being  himself  subordinate,  in  Fig.  15, 
page  7 1 , taken  from  the  German  “ Henry’s  Missal."  Some- 
times, as  in  some  of  the  “ Madonnas  " of  the  old  mas- 
ters, the  principal  figure,  though  no  larger  in  itself,  is  made 
to  have  a larger  effect  by  being  elevated  on  a throne  or 
in  clouds.  See  the  “ Madonna  " by  Fra  Bartolommeo,  Fig. 
58,  page  185,  also  Raphael’s  “Transfiguration,”  Fig.  46, 
page  147.  Sometimes  this  figure  is  in  the  foreground,  as  the 
gladiator  in  Gerome’s  “ Pollice  Verso,”  Fig.  26,  page  81,  or 
as  the  central  character  in  Raphael’s  “Ananias,”  Fig.  94, 
page  288.  Sometimes,  in  connection  with  these  other  meth- 
ods, the  leading  outlines  of  pictures  are  made  to  radiate  from 
the  chief  figure,  as  from  the  Christ  in  the  air,  in  Raphael’s 
tapestry  of  the  “ Conversion  of  St.  Paul  ” ; or  from  the 
gladiator  in  Gerome’s  “ Pollice  Verso,”  Fig.  26,  page  81; 
or  from  the  Desdcmona  in  Becker’s  “ Othello,”  Fig.  55- 
page  1 S I . Sometimes  a figure  is  made  most  prominent 
by  a use  of  color,  as  by  red  drapery  given  to  the  Christ 
in  Titian’s  “ Scourging  of  Christ  ” ; and  sometimes  by  a 
use  of  light  and  shade,  the  former  being  concentrated 
where  it  will  necessarily  attract  attention. 

In  Rubens’s  “ Descent  from  the  Cross,”  Fig.  16,  page  7 3, 
a white  sheet,  the  whitest  object  in  the  picture,  is  placed 
behind  the  form  of  the  Christ.  In  Correggio’s  “ Holy 
Night,”  Fig.  70,  page  215,  all  the  brightness  in  the  picture 
is  reflected  from  that  which  illumines  the  face  of  the  in- 
fant Jesus.  It  is  needless  to  say  at  what  the  spectator 
looks  first  when  viewing  these  works.  He  at  once  recog- 
nizes the  principality  of  the  form  about  which  all  the 
light  is  massed.  They  are  admirable  instances,  therefore, 
of  how  the  most  successful  results  of  both  principality 


FIG.  16.— DESCENT  FROM  THE  CROSS.— PETER  PAUL  RUBENS. 

See  pages  16,  72,  80,  144,  190,  214,  235,  257. 


74 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


and  massing,  to  be  considered  pre- 
sently, can  be  secured  when  the  two 
operate  conjointly. 

In  sculpture  the  methods  under 
consideration  are  equally  prevalent 
and  effective.  When  there  are  many 
figures,  the  same  principles  apply  as 
in  painting,  excepting,  of  course,  cases 
where  there  is  color.  See  the  relief, 
now  in  the  Louvre,  entitled  “ Mithras 
Stabbing  the  Bull,”  Fig.  54,  page  179. 


FIG.  17.— STATUE  OF  LEDA, 
AT  FLORENCE. 

See  pages  74,  85,  179,  289 

When,  in  either 
painting  or  sculpt- 
ure, the  whole  work 
contains  but  a sin- 
gle figure,  the  rela- 
tive prominence  of 
merely  different 
parts  of  this,  must 
show  the  influence 
of  these  methods. 

“The  Led  a,” 
from  the  statue  at 


FIG.  18.— STATUE  OF  TITUS,  IN  THE  LOUVRE. 

See  pages  75,  85,  120,  180,  289. 


PRINCIPALITY  IN  SCULPTURE. 


75 


Florence,  Fig.  17,  page  74,  with  the  hand  before  the  breast, 
about  which  also  all  the  outlines  of  the  unresisting  form 
seem  to  centre,  gives  principality  to  the  heart,  the  seat  of 
the  affections.  The  erect  head  on  the  thick  neck  and 
broad  shoulders  of  the  “Titus”  in  the  Louvre,  Fig.  18, 
page  74,  in  connection  with  the  commanding  gesture, 
gives  principality  to  these,  the  seat  of  the  directing  power, 
or  of  authority.  The 
equally  erect  but  more 
buoyant  figure  of  the 
“ Diana  ” of  the  Louvre, 
as  she  speeds  to  the 
chase,  Fig.  19,  gives 
principality  t o the 
mental  purpose  subord- 
inating to  itself  every 
tendency  t o mental 
weariness.  The  “ Mer- 
cury,” found  at  Hercu- 
laneum, Fig.  20,  page  76, 
with  head  bending  tow- 
ard the  trunk  and  limbs, 
shows  the  mind  subor- 
dinated, but,  owing  to 
his  evident  reluctance, 
only  temporarily  subor- 
dinated to  the  bodily 
condition.  In  a different  way,  because  devoid  of  any 
suggestions  of  mental  opposition,  the  positions  of  “ The 
Wrestlers,”  Fig.  21,  page  77,  make  everything  subord- 
inate to  lower  physical  strength. 

In  architecture,  principality  is  attained  by  making 
prominent  a porch  or  door,  Fig.  1,  page  15,  indicating  per- 


FIQ.  19.— DIANA,  FROM  THE  LOUVRE. 

See  pages  75,  85,  120,  186. 


76 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


haps  the  numbers,  great  or  small,  expected  to  enter  it ; or 
a window,  Fig.  22,  page  78,  or  dome,  Fig.  42,  page  123, 
indicating  the  amplitude  or  height  of  the  interior  halls ; 
or  a spire,  Fig.  68,  page  207,  indicating  an  intent  to  attract 


FI3.  20.  - MERCURY.— Bronze  from  Herculaneum. 
See  pages  75,  85,  120. 


attention  from  a distance.  Sometimes  all  these  features 
together  are  emphasized  by  being  all  made  to  constitute 
parts  of  one  principal  tower,  Fig.  71,  page  218.  The 
impression  of  completeness  that  many  people  derive  from 


PRINCIPALITY  IN  ARCHITECTURE. 


77 


buildings  like  the  Oriental  mosques,  Fig.  3,  page  19,  Fig. 
30,  page  86,  Fig.  42,  page  123,  or  “ St.  Peter’s”  at  Rome, 
Fig.  23,  page  78,  is  owing  undoubtedly  to  the  fact  that  the 
dome  used  in  them  as  a principal  feature  is  especially 
effective  in  subordinating  to  itself  all  the  other  forms,  and 
giving  to  the  buildings  as  wholes  an  appearance  of  unity. 
In  many  structures  extending  into  wings  that  equal  or 


FIG.  21.—' THE  WRESTLERS. 

See  pages  75,  85. 


surpass  in  size  their  central  connecting  parts,  Fig.  24,  page 
79  ; or  containing  large  numbers  of  openings,  gables,  tur- 
rets, domes,  or  spires  equivalent  in  effect,  Fig.  72,  page 
221,  no  such  impression  is  produced.  Nor,  for  reasons 
to  be  given  farther  on  in  this  chapter,  can  one  claim  that 
in  villas,  such  as  are  represented  in  these  figures,  this 
impression  always  should  be  produced.  In  neither  build- 
ing is  any  special  dignity  of  treatment  demanded.  Be- 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


sides  this,  we  have  in 
Fig.  24,  page  79,  a twin 
effect  allowable  in  a 
building  of  such  a char- 
acter, and  in  both  it  and 
Fig.  72,  page  221,  an 
effect  of  interspersion,  to 
be  considered  in  Chapter 
XIV.  But,  while  these 
statements  are  true,  it 
remains  a fact  that  any 
lack  of  principality  in 
any  building  appears  to 
some  to  be  a defect, 
although,  as  is  often  the 
case  in  such  matters,  they 


may  not  be  able  to 
explain  why  its  ap- 
pearance is  unsatis- 
factory. 

Passing  now  to 
complement  and  bal- 
ance in  the  arts  of 
sight,  we  shall  con- 
sider, first,  their 
most  elementary 
manifestations. 

There  are  two  ways 
of  placing  two  ob- 
jects together  in 
space.  The  one 
may  be  partly  or  fig.  23.— st.  peter’s,  rome. 

wholly  under  the  See  pages  18,  77,  87,  g6,  124,  186,  207,  265. 


FIG.  22.— HOUSES  OF  PARLIAMENT. 
FROM  OLD  PALACE  YARD. 

See  page  76. 


BALANCE  IN  ARCHITECTURE. 


79 


other,  or  the  two  may  be  side  by  side.  In  the  former 
case,  they  seem  to  fulfil  the  requirements  of  balance, 
or  to  have  equilibrium,  whenever  the  lower  object 
appears  larger  and  therefore  stronger  than  the  upper, 
— a condition  which  we  have  all  seen  carried  out  in  the 
increased  size  given  to  the  base  of  a monument.  See 
statues  in  Fig.  41,  page  121.  But  in  the  latter  case,  when 
the  two  are  side  by  side,  balance  seems  to  be  preserved, 
notwithstanding  a reasonable  degree  of  difference  in  rela- 
tive size,  in  case  they  appear  to  be  upon  very  nearly 


FIG.  24.— A TWIN  VILLA. 

See  pages  77,  78,  79,  123,  124,  1S7. 


the  same  level  horizontally,  as  they  would  be  if  floating 
in  the  water,  lodged  on  the  ground,  or  suspended,  when 
. of  equal  weight,  in  scales. 

Sometimes  two  factors  thus  balanced  include  all  that 
an  art-form  contains ; and  this,  of  itself,  is  often  satisfac- 
tory without  any  principality.  In  fact,  in  such  cases, 
we  may  say,  perhaps,  that  the  twin  effect  itself  has  princi- 
pality. Notice  the  “ Investiture  of  a Bishop  by  a King,” 
from  the  codex  in  St.  Omer,  Fig.  25,  page  80;  “The 
Twin  Villa,”  above,  and  the  “ Gate  of  Serrano,  Valencia,” 


8o 


THE  GENESIS  OF  AFT-FORM. 


Fig.  II,  page  47.  There  are  ways, -however,  in  which, 
even  where  there  are  but  two  factors,  one  of  these  can 
be  made  principal,  and  the  other  subordinate  as  well 
as  complementary.  If  they  be  the  figures  of  two  persons, 
one  can  be  tall,  or  elevated,  or  standing,  while  the  other 
is  short,  or  sitting,  or  lying  down  (see  the  gladiator  and 


FIG.  25.  -INVESTITURE  OF  A BISHOP  BY  A KING. 
(From  a Codex  in  St.  Omer. ) 

See  pages  48,  79. 


his  antagonist  in  Gerome’s  “ Pollice  Verso,”  Fig.  26, 
page  81,)  or  one  can  be  in  the  light,  and  the  other  in  the 
shade.  See,  again,  Fig.  16,  page  73,  and  Fig.  70,  page  215. 

If,  in  addition  to  the  two,  the  form  contain  an  odd 
feature,  the  two  can  continue  to  seem  to  balance,  in 
case  the  odd  be  placed  between  them.  In  fact,  this 


FIG.  26.  — POLLICE  VERSO,  BY  QER' 


82 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


arrangement  augments  the  effect  of  balancing,  by  that 
which,  as  we  shall  presently  find,  is  the  main  characteristic 
of  symmetry ; for,  so  placed,  the  odd  feature  acts  like 
an  intersecting  line,  clearly  showing — as  the  body  does 
between  the  wings  of  a bird,  or  the  head  between  the 
shoulders,  or  the  nose  between  the  eyes — just  how  the 
pairs  are  separated  and  related. 

The  same  is  true  of  groups,  too,  formed  of  five  and 
seven,  or  of  any  other  odd,  rather  than  even  numbers. 
Only  when  there  are  sufficient  factors  to  make  it  difficult 
to  count  them  in  a single  glance,  is  it  as  easy  to  secure 
effects  of  balance  with  the  latter  as  with  the  former  (see 
Turner’s  “Decline  of  Carthage,”  Fig.  5C  page  x75)- 
When  there  are  many  figures,  as  in  the  one  hundred  and 
sixty  of  the  size  of  life  in  Paul  Veronese’s  “ Marriage  at 
Cana,”  or  in  the  two  hundred  and  ten,  thirty  of  which  are 
of  full  length,  in  Tintoretto’s  “ Paradise,”  there  is  usually 
a principal  group  containing  a principal  figure,  and  many 
subordinate  and  complementary  groups,  each,  at  times, 
containing  its  own  principal  figure.  Of  course,  the  groups 
thus  formed  are  usually  arranged  as  if  they  were  only 
individual  factors.  Notice  the  grouping  in  Raphael’s 
“Transfiguration,”  Fig.  46,  page  147,  and  in  Teniers’s 
“Village  Dance,”  Fig.  43,  page  143,  and  Fig.  10,  page  41. 

The  varieties  of  ways  in  which  effects  of  balance  may  be 
secured  in  these  visible  arts,  especially  in  painting,  seem 
practically  infinite.  As  a method,  too,  it  is  almost  uni- 
versal. In  Gerome’s  “ Pollice  Verso,”  Fig.  26,  page  81, 
a gladiator’s  limbs  stretched  upon  the  ground  on  one  side 
of  his  triumphant  antagonist  is  exactly  balanced  by  the 
armor  that  has  been  stripped  from  them,  which  lies  on  the 
other  side  of  the  victor ; while  the  arm  of  the  latter,  lifted 
that  his  sword  may  strike,  is  balanced  by  his  victim’s  arm 


BALANCE  IN  PAINTING. 


83 


lifted  to  appeal  for  mercy.  In  the  first  case,  we  have  an 
instance  of  balance  produced  in  spite  of  decided  contrast 
between  the  balancing  members.  A similar  effect  is  pro- 
duced by  color  in  one  of  Paul  Veronese’s  pictures  of  the 


FIG.  27.— THE  DISCOBOLUS, 


OR  QUOIT  THROWER. 


See  page  85. 


“ Marriage  at  Cana,”  where  a small  black  head  of  a dog  on 
one  side  is  said  to  balance  a large  mass  of  black  on  the 
other  side.  So,  too,  in  Jules  Breton’s  “ Brittany  Washer- 
women,” formerly  in  the  New  York  Metropolitan  Museum, 


84 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


a little  blue  in  the  women’s  skirts  balances  a much  larger 
amount  of  blue  in  the  sea  opposite  to  them. 

As  exemplified  in  the  human  figure,  and  so  in  sculpture, 
balance  can  never  be  fully  understood,  except  as  it  is 
treated  in  connection  with  both  symmetry  and  proportion. 
Here  it  is  sufficient  to  point  out  that,  as  a rule,  in  order 
to  secure  variety,  the  limbs  of  the  two  sides  of  the  body 
should  be  in  somewhat  different  positions.  If  this  arrange- 
ment be  adopted,  nature  requires  that  a man  should  keep 
his  equilibrium,  and  art  that  he  should  seem  to  keep  it  by 


FIG.  28.- A SMALL  HOUSE. 

See  pages  85,  g6,  124,  187. 

making  an  exertion  in  one  direction  sufficient  to  counter- 
act that  made  in  the  other.  For  this  reason,  when  one  is 
gesturing,  or  appearing  to  gesture,  his  hands  and  head,  if 
the  latter  be  not  kept  still,  should  make  counteracting 
movements.  The  head  should  move  toward  the  hands 
when  they  are  lifted,  and  away  from  them  when  they  fall. 
Or  if  he  be  posing,  and  his  arm  be  thrust  out  on  one  side 
of  him,  his  other  arm,  or  his  trunk  or  foot  should  be 
thrust  out  on  his  other  side,  sufficiently  at  least  to  secure 
an  effect  of  equilibrium.  The  necessity  in  art  of  seeming 


BALANCE  IN  SCULPTURE. 


85 


to  carry  out  such  requirements,  especially  where  postures 
are  unusual,  as  in  the  case  of  the  “ Discobolus,"  (Fig.  27, 
page  83)  presents  one  of  the  greatest  difficulties  which  the 
sculptor  has  to  encounter.  See  statues  on  pages  74  to  77. 


FIG.  29.— PALACE  OF  JUSTICE,  AT  LYONS,  FRANCE. 
See  pages  87,  96,  261. 


In  architecture,  it  is  possible  for  one  subordinate  feature 
to  complement  the  principal,  as  a wing,  or  porch,  or  door 
at  one  side  of  a house  balances  the  whole  fagade  of  the 
building  to  which  it  is  attached  (Fig.  28,  page  84)  ; or  as 


FIG.  30.— SULEYMANIYA  MOSQUE,  1556. 
See  pages  77,  go. 


BALANCE  IN  ARCHITECTURE. 


8 7 


a tower  at  one  side  or  corner  offsets  the  body  of  a church 
(Fig.  97,  page  292) ; or  as  a dome  completes  that  which  sup- 
ports it  (Fig.  23,  page  78).  With  exception  of  the  dome, 
however,  such  arrangements  are  in  place  mainly  in  smaller 
buildings  in  which  graceful  and  picturesque  effects  are 
desirable.  In  all  such  cases,  too,  it  is  important  that 
the  subordinate  feature  be  sufficiently  large  to  be  a true 
complement  or  balance.  A wing,  or  tower,  or  dome  of  any 
kind,  too  small  for  that  which  goes  beside  or  beneath  it, 
is  invariably  unsatisfactory.  Notice  the  absence  of  effec- 
tiveness for  both  these  reasons  in  the  cupola  surmounting 
the  unnecessary  mixture  of  styles  in  the  “ Palace  of  Jus- 
tice,” at  Lyons,  France,  Fig.  29,  page  85. 

In  the  degree  in  which  a building,  like  a church,  a 
court-house,  or  a school,  is  to  be  devoted  to  a serious 
purpose,  it  should  convey  an  impression  of  dignity.  In 
art,  as  in  life,  this  effect  results  from  an  appearance  of 
perfect  equilibrium.  In  architecture  it  is  secured  in  the 
degree  in  which  the  principal  entrance  is  exactly  in  the 
middle  of  the  fagade,  with  an  equal  number  of  subordinate 
features,  towers,  pillars  or  openings,  as  the  case  may  be,  on 
either  side  of  it.  Notice,  as  exemplifyingthis  arrangement, 
“Cologne  Cathedral,”  Fig.  2,  page  17,  the  “Taj  Mahal,” 
Fig.  3,  page  19,  “ St.  Mark's,  Venice,"  Fig.  31,  page  88,  and 
“The  Gate  of  Serrano,”  Fig.  11,  page  47.  In  the 
Greek  temples,  the  front  peristyle — to  which,  as  a whole, 
was  given  principality — always  contained  an  even  number 
of  columns,  in  order  that,  before  the  central  door,  there 
might  be  a central  space  between  them.  This  space,  too, 
might  exceed  that  between  the  other  columns;  and  the 
spaces  between  the  columns  farthest  to  right  and  left 
were  narrower  than  those  between  any  others.  Thus,  in 
the  principal  feature  considered  in  itself,  the  Greeks 


FIG.  31.-  CHURCH  OF  ST.  MARK,  VENICE,  WITH  CAMPANILE. 
See  pages  18,  77,  87,  90,  96,  124,  180,  186,  190,  207,  261,  262. 


BALANCE  IN  ARCHITECTURE. 


89 


secured  the  effect  of  symmetry  through  that  of  principal- 
ity with  balance.  See  “ Temples  of  the  Acropolis,”  Fig. 
I,  page  15. 

Our  own  architects  have  wisely  ceased  to  imitate  the 
Greeks  in  cases  where  to  do  so  would  be  out  of  place  ; 
but  the  principle  of  imitation  has  had,  and  continues  to 


FIG.  32.— CANTERBURY  CATHEDRAL,  FROM  SOUTHWEST. 

See  pages  18,  go,  124,  207,  261. 

have,  such  an  influence,  that,  as  applied  to  the  Gothic,  we 
still  cling  to  methods  that  represent  not  its  best,  but  its 
worst  phases.  The  tower  at  one  corner,  or  at  the  side, 
which  is  so  common  with  us,  is  an  inartistic  adaptation  of 
what  had  a very  different  effect  when  separated  from  the 
church  in  the  structure  called  a campanile  (See  an  Ori- 


9o 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART- FORM. 


ental  example  of  this  in  Fig.  30,  page  86,  and  a more 
familiar  one  in  Fig.  31,  page  88).  Nor  can  a huge  tower 
or  towers  placed  at  the  front  (see  Fig.  2,  page  17)  fulfil 
at  all  the  same  office  as  those  much  smaller  in  propor- 
tion which  are  kept  subordinate  to  a tower  or  dome  at 
the  centre  (see  Fig.  32,  page  89).  There  is  no  doubt  that 
the  ideal  building  is  represented  not  in  Fig.  2,  page  17, 
but  by  the  way  in  which  principality,  subordinateness, 


FIG.  33.-IFFLEY  CHURCH. 

See  pages  g2,  124. 

and  complement  are  all  given  their  due  proportionment, 
as  in  Fig.  68,  page  207. 

Besides  imitation,  the  desire  to  have  a building  present 
an  impressive  appearance  on  the  street  is  accountable  for 
this  accumulation  of  the  chief  features  on  one  side  or 
corner.  But  many  of  these  buildings  are  on  two  streets; 
and  the  demands  of  the  ordinary  American  church  are  so 
different  from  those  of  the  European  that  it  is  strange  that 
our  architects,  in  the  arrangements  both  of  exteriors  and 


FIG.  34.— SHADYSIDE  PRESBYTERIAN  CHURCH.-(Shepley,  Rutan,  and  Cooudoe,  Architects.) 
See  pages  92,  96,  124,  186,  190. 


92 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


interiors,  have  not  been  forced  into  more  originality. 
There  are  undoubtedly  good  reasons  why  that  which, 
artistically  considered,  is  the  most  satisfactory  form  of  the 
cathedral  and  parish  church,  Fig.  33,  page  90,  should  not 
be  adopted  by  us.  Such  a building  is  difficult  to  con- 
struct ; and,  when  constructed,  the  huge  foundations 
of  the  tower  interfere  with  both  hearing-  and  seeing. 
Yet  an  adaptation  of  the  form  to  modern  purposes,  as 
well  as  an  artistic  building  in  all  regards,  seems  to  be 
furnished,  so  far  as  one  can  judge  from  a photograph, 
in  the  “ Shadyside  Presbyterian  Church,”  Fig.  34, 
page  91. 

As  a rule,  however,  an  American  church  has  two  sepa- 
rate parts — one  devoted  to  worship,  and  the  other,  mainly, 
to  the  Sunday  schools.  In  some  cases,  with  admirable 
effect,  a tower  has  been  placed  between  these  parts.  But 
the  idea  thus  given  form  could  be  further  developed,  and 
the  building  as  a whole  made  more  distinctly  a unity. 
The  tower  could  be  back  from  the  street,  and  in  the 
centre  of  the  structure;  and  under  it  could  be  not  only 
the  central  entrance,  but  an  entrance-hall  as  long  as  the 
building’s  width,  broad,  lofty,  and  imposing,  and  filled,  as 
time  passed  on,  with  memorials.  The  main  audience- 
hall,  too,  if  architects  and  those  who  employ  them  would 
only  subordinate  their  traditional  notions  to  the  dictates 
of  taste  and  reason,  could  be  made  much  more  original 
and  artistic,  as  well  as  convenient  and  practical.  See 
Fig.  35>  Paffe  93-  and  Fig.  36,  page  94,  the  work  of  Mr. 
G.  Id.  Edbrooke,  of  New  York. 

The  same  statements  apply,  of  course,  to  schools  and 
all  kinds  of  public  edifices.  It  is  remarkable,  by  the  way, 
that  those  who  have  planned  modern  cathedrals  have  not 
recognized  the  propriety  of  placing  the  central  tower 


FIG.  35. “PLAN  FOR  A CHURCH.— EXTERIOR. 

See  page  92. 


ARCHITECTURAL  ARRANGEMENTS. 


95 


entirely  over  the  nave,  instead  of  at  the  juncture  of  the 
nave  and  transepts.  In  the  former  place,  the  tower  could 
be  narrow  enough  to  prevent  any  structural  weakness 
owing  to  a reach  of  arches  under  it,  and,  if  it  were  there, 

it  would  be  possible 
to  have  in  front  of 
the  chancel,  in  con- 
nection with  all  the 
traditional  effects  of 
nave  and  aisles  and 
chancel,  a large  au- 
dience-hall, flanked, 
if  necessary,  by  wide 
transept  galleries,  in 
which  the  crowds  in 
attendance  could  not 
only  hear  but  see  the 
services.  As  such  a 
hall  is  acknowledged 
to  be  almost  essential 
to  a modern  church 
of  any  kind,  one 
would  suppose  that 
the  first  effort  of 
architects  would  be 
in  the  direction  of  a 
design  in  which  it 
could  be  introduced 
without  difficulty. 
Notice  Fig.  37. 

Before  leaving  this  subject,  it  may  be  well  to  add  that 
what  has  been  said  of  the  method  of  emphasizing  both 
principality  and  complement  through  the  use  of  uneven 


THE  GENESIS  OF  AKT-FORM. 


96 

rather  than  of  even  numbers,  may  apply  to  perpendicular 
as  well  as  to  horizontal  arrangements.  To  one  looking 
upward  at  a building,  for  instance,  the  basement  often 
seems  to  complement  the  roof,  or  a first  story  to  comple- 
ment a third;  while  the  principal  part, -or,  at  least,  the 
pivot-line  of  balance,  seems  to  be  between  them.  It  is 
worth  noticing  in  this  connection,  too,  that  the  Greeks, 
according  to  all  testimony,  almost  invariably  grouped 
different  architectural  features,  whether  placed  perpen- 
dicularly or  horizontally,  according  to  proportions  deter- 
mined by  odd  numbers,  1,  3,  5,  7,  etc.  ; and  also  the  fact, 
which  our  own  experience  has  probably  confirmed,  that 
the  majority  of  men  feel  that  a house  or  tower  having  an 
equal  number  of  openings  or  divisions  of  spaces  either 
horizontally  or  perpendicularly — say  exactly  two  or  four 
windows  on  a story,  or  two  or  four  stories  with  no 
apparent  basement  or  roof — is  less  pleasing  than  a house 
having  three  or  five  windows  on  a story,  or  having  one 
and  one  half,  two  and  one  half,  or  three  or  five  stories,  or 
four  stories  with  an  apparent  roof.  See  Figs.  3,  page  19; 
11,  page  47;  23,  page  78;  28,  page  84;  29,  page  85  ; 31, 
page  88  ; 34,  page  91  ; 42,  page  123,  etc. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


GROUPING  AND  ORGANIC  FORM  IN  POETRY  AND 

MUSIC. 

The  Principle  of  Grouping,  Resulting  from  the  Requirements  of  the  Product 
— The  Method,  Conditioned  by  this  Principle,  Organizes  the  Group — 
Organism  in  Nature  and  in  Classification — In  Art-Composition — Organ- 
ism in  the  Art-Product  : the  Feet,  Trunk,  and  Head  of  Plato  ; the  Be- 
ginning, Middle,  and  End  of  Aristotle — Applied  to  Poetic  Form — To 
the  Sentence — To  the  Poem — Effects  of  Form  Due  to  the  Organic 
Order  in  which  the  Beginning,  Middle,  and  End  of  Movement  are 
Presented  : Stedman — Where  Thought  is  Didactic  : Longfellow — 

Pope — Montgomery — In  a Simile  : Howitt — Waller — Hugo — -Same 

Effects  as  Produced  by  Form  Irrespective  of  the  Thought — Sherman  — 
Waddington — Miller — Gosse — Scollard — A Like  Principle  illustrated  in 
Plots  of  Long  Poems — In  Music — A Periodic  Form — Explanations  of 
the  Effect  in  Short  and  Long  Compositions — In  Reiterated  Chords  at 
their  Beginning  and  Close — Same  Principle  in  Oratory. 

J T has  been  shown  that  in  classification  and  art-com- 
position, the  conditions  of  mind  and  nature  involve  a 
regard  for  the  principles  of  unity , variety , complexity,  order, 
confusion,  and  counteraction  ; also,  that  there  needs  to  be 
that  combined  application  of  all  of  these,  as  conditioned 
by  the  requirements  of  the  product,  which  is  termed  group- 
ing. Certain  methods,  respectively  owing  their  origin  to 
the  first  six  of  these  principles,  have  been  said  to  be  com- 
parison, contrast,  complement , principality,  subordination, 
and  balance.  The  method  connected  in  a like  manner 
with  grouping  needs  now  to  be  considered. 

Factors  ought  to  be  grouped  in  such  a way  as  to  cause 

7 


97 


93 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


them  to  show  more  than  the  mere  existence  of  prin- 
cipality, subordination,  or  balance.  They  ought  to  show 
their  relationships  to  one  another  and  to  the  class  as  a 
whole  of  which  they  are  members.  It  is  in  fulfilment  of 
such  a purpose  that  classes  are  divided  as  in  species  and 
families,  with  their  factors  arranged  according  to  their 
degrees  of  likeness  or  unlikeness  to  the  typical  form,  those 
unlike  it  and  like  others  of  another  class  being  placed,  as 
it  were,  at  the  extremities  of  their  own  class,  serving  thus 
to  define  its  limits.  In  this  way  among  the  mammals,  for 
instance,  the  bat  may  be  placed  nearest  the  birds,  and 
the  seal  nearest  the  fishes.  A like  process  applied  not  to 
one  class,  but  to  all  the  classes  that  can  be  included  in  a 
given  consideration  of  a subject,  leads  to  what  we  call  a 
system  of  classification  ; and  the  way  in  which  we  ordi- 
narily express  the  fact  that  all  the  factors  possible  to  a 
class  and  all  the  classes  possible  to  a system  have  been  com- 
prehended in  the  result,  is  to  say  that  each  and  every  thing 
has  been  thoroughly  organized.  We  might  also  express 
the  same  by  saying  that  to  the  whole  has  been  given 
organism  or  organic  form. 

In  nature  an  organic  as  distinguished  from  an  inorganic 
form  is  one  of  greater  or  lesser  degrees  of  complexity,  per- 
vaded everywhere  by  channels  or  organs  through  which 
flow  effects  that  influence  every  part  of  the  object,  but 
of  it  only,  beyond  the  reach  of  which  effects  it  ceases 
to  exist.  Trees  and  animals,  for  instance,  with  their 
various  circulatory  systems,  are  organic.  Sand  and  day- 
are  not.  The  method  which  we  are  now  considering 
causes  the  result  to  show,  just  as  organism  does  in  natural 
forms,  exactly  the  effect  that  every  part  has  in  enhancing 
the  effect  of  every  other  part,  and  of  the  whole,  as  well  as 
in  rendering  the  whole  complete. 


GROUPING  IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC . 


99 


If  organic  form,  as  thus  explained,  be  necessary  in  classi- 
fication, it  is  still  more  necessary  in  art-composition.  Pre- 
dominating comparison  may  reveal  the  fact  that  the 
features  are  all  parts  of  a unity  ; and  principality , subordi- 
nation, and  balance  may  enhance  the  appearance  of  this 
by  their  influence  in  the  direction  of  order ; but  only 
when  the  parts  have  been  organically  connected  can  there 
be  no  doubt  that  each  of  them  belongs  with  each  and  all 
of  the  others,  and  just  what  are  the  limits  of  the  whole. 

From  the  use  of  the  term  organic  as  applied  to  forms 
of  nature,  it  follows  that  to  say  that  those  of  art  should 
have  organism  is  the  same  as  to  say  that  they  should  be 
characterized  by  effects  analogous  to  those  produced  by  the 
living  forms  that  are  about  us.  When  we  have  said  this, 
can  there  be  a more  simple  yet  efficient  way  of  showing 
how  an  art-form  can  come  to  have  these  effects,  than  by 
showing  how  the  living  forms  of  nature  come  to  have  them  ? 
Certainly  not.  It  is  only  natural,  therefore,  though  the 
reason  for  it  has  never  been  thus  explained,  that  almost  all 
critics  of  all  ages  have  felt  it  to  be  appropriate  to  take  an 
animal  or  a man,  the  highest  type  of  an  organized  being, 
as  an  ideal  natural  form  from  which  to  derive  suggestions 
with  reference  to  the  essential  characteristics  of  an  ideal 
art-form.  Plato,  for  instance,  named  head,  trunk,  and  feet 
as  the  three  essential  features  in  every  work  of  art  ; and 
Aristotle,  recalling  the  fact  that  all  products  do  not  appeal 
to  the  eye,  and  cannot  seem  to  have  visible  bodies,  tried 
to  state  a principle  more  general  in  its  reach  by  declaring 
that  they  must  all  have  beginning,  middle,  and  end.  But 
both  statements  are  virtually  the  same,  and  together  are 
inclusive  of  all  possible  artistic  applications  of  the  subject. 
The  first  applies  literally  to  forms  that  appear  in  space, 
the  second  to  those  that  appear  in  time.  Both  mean  that 


IOO 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


there  should  be  such  an  order  in  the  arrangement  of  the 
parts  constituting  the  form  as  to  cause  all  the  parts  to 
seem  to  be  organically  connected  with  one  whole,  and  this 
whole  to  seem  to  possess  all  the  parts  necessary  to  render 
it  complete. 

Let  us  see,  first,  how  this  principle  applies  to  poetry. 
Some  have  difficulty  in  understanding  what  is  meant  even 
by  the  term  form , to  say  nothing  of  organism  of  form, 
when  used  with  reference  to  arts  that  do  not  occupy  space, 
and  therefore  can  have  no  visibly  definite  shape.  To 
remove  this  difficulty,  a short  explanation  seems  to  be 
needed  here,  even  at  the  expense  of  repeating  what  was 
expressed  more  fully  in  Chapter  xxvii.  of  “ Poetry  as  a 
Representative  Art."  We  say  that  a visible  object  has 
form  in  the  degree  in  which  it  appears  to  be  one  object, 
by  which  we  mean,  in  the  degree  in  which,  owing  to 
effects  of  outlines,  colors,  or  some  other  features,  every  part 
of  the  object  seems  to  be  connected  with  every  other  part 
of  it  throughout  the  entire  extent  of  space  which  it  occu- 
pies. A poem  is  not  visible  in  space,  but  is  apprehended 
in  time,  being  composed  of  words  that  follow  one  another. 
Its  form  is  a phase  of  movement ; and,  if  we  apply  to  the 
poem  the  same  criterions  usually  applied  to  visible  ob- 
jects, changing  only  the  terms  that  are  necessary  in  order 
to  refer  to  it  as  an  object  whose  form  is  a phase  of  move- 
ment, we  may  say  that  the  form  appears  to  be  one  in  the 
degree  in  which  it  appears  to  be  one  movement ; by  which 
we  mean  in  the  degree  in  which  every  part  of  the  move- 
ment seems  to  be  connected  with  every  other  part  of  it, 
and  this  throughout  the  whole  extent  of  time  which  it 
occupies. 

In  a perfect  sentence,  which,  by  way  of  illustration, 
we  might  conceive  to  be  long  enough  to  constitute  an 


GROUPING  IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC.  IOI 

entire  poem,  every  word  or  clause  is  related  in  some  way 
to  every  other;  and  is  related  also  in  some  way  to  a 
subject  which  represents  the  beginning  of  a movement  ; to 
a predicate  which  represents  the  continuation  and  some- 
times the  end  of  the  movement ; and  also,  when  needed,  to 
an  object  which  represents  the  end  of  the  movement.  It  is 
for  these  reasons  that  a perfect  sentence  seems  to  have  form. 

If  this  be  true  of  a sentence,  which  is  a series  of  words 
representing  thought,  why  should  it  not  be  true  of  a poem, 
which  is  also  a series  of  words  representing  thought?  In 
a poem  which,  as  a whole,  has  form,  and  form  that  can  be 
readily  recognized,  the  different  sentences,  or  representa- 
tions of  special  and  sometimes  deviating  movements,  all 
manifest  their  relationships  to  one  another,  and  also  to 
the  general  forward  movement. 

To  express  the  same  somewhat  differently,  a poem  is  a 
development  of  language,  and  language  is  a representation 
of  thought,  and  thought  always  involves  motion.  A 
poem,  therefore,  is  a representation  of  thought  and  also 
of  motion,  or,  rather,  of  thought  in  motion.  But  more 
than  this,  it  is  a single  art-product ; therefore  it  must 
represent  a single  thought  in  a single  motion.  This  im- 
plies, first,  one  thought  to  which  all  the  other  thoughts  of 
the  work  must  be  related  by  way  of  complement,  or  sub- 
ordinated by  way  of  principality  ; and  second,  one  motion 
of  thought — i.  e.,  one  thought  moving  in  one  direction, 
having  one  beginning  from  which  all  the  movements  of  all 
the  related  and  subordinated  thoughts  of  the  entire  poem 
start ; a middle  through  which  they  all  flow ; and  an 
end  toward  which  they  all  tend.  This  is  the  same  as  to 
say  that  the  principal , subordinate , and  complementary,  or 
balancing  thoughts  must  all  be  grouped  and  presented  in 
organic  order.  A poem  in  which  these  requirements  are 


102 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


fulfilled  and — let  it  be  carefully  noted — apparently  ful- 
filled, necessarily  produces  upon  us  the  impression  of 
organism.  Notice  a fine  illustration  of  it  in  the  following, 
and  how  much  it  has  to  do  with  the  general  effect.  All 
the  actions  in  the  poem  from  beginning  to  end  are  clearly 
connected  with  the  whole,  and  are  invariably  related  in 
the  order  in  which,  in  the  supposed  circumstances,  they 
would  have  occurred. 

Our  good  steeds  snuff  the  evening  air, 

Our  pulses  with  their  purpose  tingle  ; 

The  foeman's  fires  are  twinkling  there  ; 

He  leaps  when  our  sabres  jingle  ! 

Halt  ! 

Each  carbine  sends  its  whizzing  ball  ; 

Now  cling  ! clang  ! Forward  all 

Into  the  fight  ! 

Dash  on  beneath  the  smoking  dome  ; 

Tli  rough  level  lightnings  gallop  nearer  ! 

One  look  to  Heaven  ! No  thought  of  home  ; 

The  guidons  that  we  bear  are  dearer. 

Charge  ! 

Cling  ! clang  ! Forward  all  ! 

Heaven  help  those  whose  horses  fall ; 

Cut  left  and  right ! 

They  flee  before  our  fierce  attack  ! 

They  fall  ! They  spread  in  broken  surges. 

Now,  comrades,  bear  our  wounded  back, 

And  leave  the  foeman  to  his  dirges. 

Wheel  ! 

The  bugles  sound  the  swift  recall ; 

Cling  ! clang  ! Backward  all  ! 

Home  and  good-night  ! 

- — Cavalry  Song  from  Alice  of  Monmouth  : E.  C.  Stedman. 


Here  is  another  poem,  the  thought  of  which,  if  not 
embodied  in  a form  suggesting  the  beginning,  middle,  and 


GROUPING  IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC. 


103 

end  of  movement,  would  be  didactic  in  the  worst  sense  ; 
and  yet  through  the  use,  in  the  successive  stanzas,  of  the 
words  death , grave,  and  eternity,  indicative  as  they  are  of 
the  order  of  sequence  of  the  different  events  connected 
with  the  departure  of  the  soul  from  the  world,  the  poet, 
by  giving  organic  form  to  the  whole,  has  made  it  dis- 
tinctly artistic  : 

Take  them,  O Death,  and  bear  away 
Whatever  thou  can’st  call  thine  own  ! 

Thine  image  stamped  upon  this  clay, 

Doth  give  thee  that,  but  that  alone  ! 

Take  them,  O Grave  ! and  let  them  lie 
Folded  upon  thy  narrow  shelves, 

As  garments  by  the  soul  laid  by. 

And  precious  only  to  ourselves  ! 

Take  them,  O great  Eternity  ! 

Our  little  life  is  but  a gust 
That  bends  the  branches  of  thy  tree, 

And  trails  its  blossoms  in  the  dust  ! 

— Take  Them,  0 Death  : Longfellow. 


In  the  following,  the  representation  is  not  of  actions, 
but  of  thoughts  ; yet  these  also  are  grouped  with  strict 
fidelity  to  the  order  in  which  they  would  reveal  them- 
selves to  the  one  supposed  to  experience  them.  Notice 
here,  too,  how  the  apparent  organism  of  the  form  enhances 
the  effect.  Would  the  poem  have  any  effect  at  all,  in 
fact,  if  it  were  not  for  this  ? 

Vital  spark  of  heavenly  flame, 

Quit,  O quit  this  mortal  frame  ! 

Trembling,  hoping,  lingering,  flying, 

O the  pain,  the  bliss,  of  dying  ! 

Cease,  fond  Nature,  cease  thy  strife, 

And  let  me  languish  into  life. 


104 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


Hark  they  whisper  ; angels  say 
Sister  spirit,  come  away. 

What  is  this  absorbs  me  quite, 

Steals  my  senses,  shuts  my  sight, 

Drowns  my  spirit,  draws  my  breath  ? 

Tell  me,  my  soul,  can  this  be  death  ? 

The  world  recedes  ; it  disappears  ; 

Heaven  opens  on  my  eyes  ; my  ears 
With  sounds  seraphic  ring. 

Lend,  lend  your  wings,  I mount,  1 fly. 

O Grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ? 

O Death  where  is  thy  sting  ? 

— Address  of  the  Hying  Christian  to  his  Soul : Pope. 

A similar  result  appears  in  these  two  successive  stanzas  : 


Night  is  the  time  for  rest  ; 

How  sweet,  when  labors  close, 

To  gather  round  an  aching  breast 
The  curtain  of  repose, 

Stretch  the  tired  limbs,  and  lay  the  head 
Upon  our  own  delightful  bed  ! 

Night  is  the  time  for  dreams  ; 

The  gay  romance  of  life, 

Where  truth  that  is  and  truth  that  seems 
Mix  in  fantastic  strife  ; 

Ah,  visions  less  beguiling  far 
Than  waking  dreams  by  daylight  are. 

■ — Night : fames  Montgomery. 

If  a simile  be  introduced,  the  same  principle  applies  both 
to  the  figure  and  to  the  thought  illustrated  by  it,  e.  g.  : 

And  is  the  swallow  gone  ? 

Who  beheld  it  ? 

Which  way  sailed  it  ? 

Farewell  bade  it  none? 


GROUPING  IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC. 


105 


No  mortal  saw  it  go  ; — 

But  who  doth  hear 
Its  summer  cheer 
As  it  flitteth  to  and  fro  ? 

So  the  proud  spirit  flies  ! 

From  its  surrounding  clay 
It  steals  away 

Like  the  swallow  from  the  skies. 

Whither  ? Wherefore  does  it  go  ? 

’T  is  all  unknown  ; 

We  feel  alone 
That  a void  is  left  below. 

— Departure  of  the  Swallozv  : IVm.  JTowitt. 


Here  are  other  poems  with  the  same  characteristics : 

Go,  lovely  rose  ! 

Tell  her  that  wastes  her  time  and  me. 

That  now  she  knows, 

When  I resemble  her  to  thee, 

How  sweet  and  fair  she  seems  to  be. 

Tell  her  that ’s  young 
And  shuns  to  have  her  graces  spied. 

That  hadst  thou  sprung 
In  deserts  where  no  men  abide, 

Thou  must  have  uncommended  died. 

Small  is  the  worth 
Of  beauty  from  the  light  retired  : 

Bid  her  come  forth, 

Suffer  herself  to  be  desired, 

And  not  blush  so  to  be  admired. 

Then  die  ! that  she 
The  common  fate  of  all  things  rare 
May  read  in  thee  : 

How  shall  a part  of  time  they  share 
That  are  so  wondrous  sweet  and  fair. 

— Go , Lovely  Rose  : E.  Waller. 


io  6 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


Oh,  when  I sleep  come  near  my  resting-place, 

As  Laura  came  to  bless  her  poet’s  heart, 

And  let  thy  breath  in  passing  touch  my  face — 

At  once  a space 
My  lips  will  part. 

And  on  my  brow  where  too  long  weighed  supreme 
A vision — haply  sped  now — black  as  night, 

Let  thy  look  as  a star  arise  and  beam — 

At  once  my  dream 
Will  seem  of  light. 

Then  press  my  lips,  where  plays  a flame  of  bliss — 

A pure  and  holy  love-light — and  forsake 
The  angel  for  the  woman  in  a kiss — 

At  once  I wiss, 

My  soul  will  wake. 

— Come  When  I Sleep  : Victor  Htigo  ; tr.  by  W.  W.  Tomlinson. 

Sitting  in  a porchway  cool, 

Fades  the  ruddy  sunlight  fast, 

Twilight  hastens  on  to  rule — 

Working  hours  are  wellnigh  past. 

Shadows  shoot  across  the  lands  ; 

But  one  sower  lingers  still, 

Old  in  rags,  he  patient  stands, — 

Looking  on  I feel  a thrill. 

Black  and  high  his  silhouette 
Dominates  the  furrows  deep. 

Now  to  sow  the  task  is  set, 

Soon  shall  come  the  time  to  reap. 

Marches  he  along  the  plain, 

To  and  fro,  and  scatters  wide 
From  his  hands  the  precious  grain. 

Moody,  I,  to  see  him  stride. 

Darkness  deepens.  Gone  the  light. 

Now  his  gestures  to  mine  eyes 
Are  august  ; and  strange — his  height 
Seems  to  touch  the  starry  skies. 

— The  Sower:  Idem.;  tr.  by  Torn  Dull 


GROUPING  IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC. 


10  7 


Notice  also,  as  criticised  in  Chapter  xxvii.  of  “ Poetry 
as  a Representative  Art,”  Tennyson’s  “ Farewell,” 
“ Home  They  Brought  the  Warrior  Dead,”  “ As  through 
the  Land  at  Eve  We  Went,”  and  “ The  Deserted  House  ” ; 
Shanly’s  “ Kitty  of  Coleraine  ” ; Kingsley’s  “ Fishermen,” 
and  “ 0 Mary,  Go  and  Call  the  Cattle  Home  ” ; Barateau’s 
“Twenty  Years”;  Horace  Smith’s  “To  Fanny”;  Al- 
drich’s “ Nocturne  ” ; and  Bryant’s  “Wind  and  Stream,” 
“ Tides,”  and  “ Presentiment.” 

So  far  we  have  been  considering  organic  form  as 
something  to  be  determined  by  the  thought  to  be 
expressed.  It  is  possible,  even  in  poetry,  to  produce  the 
same  effect  through  the  form  alone,  irrespective  of  the 
thought.  Observe  in  the  sonnets  quoted  on  page  165, 
as  also  in  the  following  imitations  of  French  forms,  the 
distinct  impression  conveyed  of  beginning,  middle,  and 
end.  This  results  entirely  too  from  the  form,  i.  e.,  from 
the  way  in  which  the  stanzas  and  the  repeated  lines  and 
phrases  emphasizing  the  successive  parts  of  the  poems, 
are  arranged. 

Awake,  awake,  O gracious  heart, 

There ’s  some  one  knocking  at  the  door  ; 

The  chilling  breezes  make  him  smart  ; 

His  little  feet  are  tired  and  sore. 

Arise,  and  welcome  him  before 

Adown  his  cheeks  the  big  tears  start  : 

Awake,  awake,  O gracious  heart, 

There ’s  some  one  knocking  at  the  door. 

’T  is  Cupid  come  with  loving  art 
To  honor,  worship,  and  implore  ; 

And  lest,  unwelcomed,  he  depart 
With  all  his  wise,  mysterious  lore, 

Awake,  awake,  O gracious  heart, 

There ’s  some  one  knocking  at  the  door. 

— Valentine  : Rondel  by  Frank  Dempster  Sherman. 


ioS 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


We  know  not  yet  wliat  life  shall  be, 

What  shore  beyond  earth’s  shore  be  set  ; 

What  grief  awaits  us,  or  what  glee, 

We  know  not  yet. 

Still,  somewhere  in  sweet  converse  met, 

Old  friends,  we  say,  beyond  death’s  sea 
Shall  meet  and  greet  us,  nor  forget 

Those  days  of  yore,  those  years  when  we 
Were  loved  and  true, — but  will  death  let 
Our  eyes  the  longed-for  vision  see  ? 

We  know  not  yet. 

— Mors  et  Vita  : Rondel  by  Samuel  IVaddington. 

“ Hylas,  O Hylas  ! ” crying  to  the  breeze 
Through  field  and  forest  wandered  Hercules, 

Forgetting  those  who  manned  the  Argo  tall, 

Greece  and  the  glorious  labors  of  his  thrall, 

Yea,  e’en  that  golden  prize  beyond  the  seas. 

Wild  were  his  words,  and  wildly  echoing  these 
Back  from  the  looming  gloom  of  cliffs  and  trees 
Resounded  mockingly  his  eager  call, 

“ Hylas,  O Hylas  ! ” 

When  Nestor’s  wisdom,  Orpheus’  melodies, 

And  all  rewards  of  earth  no  more  can  please, 

Flow  oft  we  turn  and  let  the  tear-drop  fall 
For  one  whose  gift  of  loving  was  his  all, 

And  cry  in  anguish,  and  on  bended  knees, 

“ Hylas,  O Hylas  ! ” 

— Rondeau  : M.  M.  Miller. 

Even  the  following,  though  all  contained  in  a single 
stanza,  has  the  same  characteristics  : 

I saw  a snowflake  in  the  air 

When  smiling  May  had  decked  the  year, 

And  then ’t  was  gone,  I knew  not  where, — 

I saw  a snowflake  in  the  air, 


GROUPING  IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC. 


IO9 


And  thought  perchance  an  angel's  prayer 
Had  fallen  from  some  starry  sphere  ; 

I saw  a snowflake  in  the  air 

When  smiling  May  had  decked  the  year. 

— A Snowflake  in  May  : Triolet  by  Clinton  Scollard. 


To  what  has  been  said  it  needs  only  to  be  added  now — 
what  will  readily  suggest  itself — that  this  requirement  of 
organic  form,  as  manifested  by  the  arrangement  of  the 
chief  features  of  an  artistic  product,  differs  not  whether  a 
poem  be  short  or  long.  The  degree  of  excellence  in  its 
conception  is  measured  by  the  degree  in  which  it  presents 
an  image  of  the  phase  of  life  with  which  it  deals  in  a 
distinct  form,  by  which  is  meant  a form  in  which  are 
preserved  the  organic  relationships  of  all  the  parts  to 
one  another  and  to  the  whole.  When,  in  speaking  of  a 
long  poem,  such  as  the  “ Iliad”  or  “ Paradise  Lost,” 
“ Hamlet,”  or  “ Faust,”  we  commend  its  unity  and  prog- 
ress, or  the  consistency,  continuity,  and  completeness 
with  which  certain  ideas  of  which  it  treats  are  developed, 
we  mean  merely  that  the  poem  as  a whole  presents  in 
distinct  organic  form  a whole  image  of  that  which  it  is 
designed  to  present.  The  difference,  therefore,  between 
the  ability  to  produce  a long  poem  and  a short  one,  or 
what  is  sometimes  the  same  thing,  a great  poem  and  a 
small  one,  is  simply  of  the  same  nature  as  that  which 
exists  between  a high  and  a small  order  of  intellect  in 
other  departments, — a difference  in  the  ability  to  hold 
the  thoughts  persistently  to  a single  subject  until  all  its 
parts  have  been  marshalled  into  order. 

Turning  now  to  music,  who  has  not  noticed  that  a 
composition  in  this  art  appears  to  have  form  in  the 
degree  alone  in  which  one  theme,  i.  e.,  one  musical  move- 
ment, is  perceived  to  be  begun,  developed,  and  drawn  to 


I IO 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


a close  ? The  songs  which  to  most  of  us  appear  most 
nearly  perfect  assume  such  forms  as  are  found  in  the 
“ Sehnsucht  nach  clem  Fruhlings,”  page  67,  or  “ Battle 
Hymn  of  the  Republic,”  page  199,  in  both  of  which  the 
beginning  and  end  are  similar,  and  the  middle  very  often 
merely  a variation,  by  way  of  complement,  of  the  same 
general  combination  of  notes. 

Here  are  the  various  elements  and  developments  of  a 
periodic  form,  as  given  by  Marx  in  his  “ Theory  and 
Practice  of  Musical  Composition  ” : 


Beginning 

Middle 

End 

Repose 

Motion 

Repose 

Tonic 

Scale 

Tonic 

Repose 

Motion 

Repose 

Motion 

Repose 

Tonic 

Tonic  Scale 

Tonic  8va 

Tonic  Scale 

Tonic 

Tonic  Mass 

Motion 

Half  Cadence 

Motion 

Full  Cadence 

Repose 

Motion 

Repose 

First  Part 

Second  Part 

Third  Part 

8 Measures 

8 or  16  Meas. 

8 Measures 

Repose 

Motion 

Repose 

According  to  these  arrangements,  as  will  be  noticed, 
the  movement  seems  to  start  and  stop  at  the  same  point 
— to  pass  around  the  whole  circumference,  as  it  were,  of 
the  phase  of  feeling  to  be  expressed,  furnishing  in  this 
regard  an  exact  analogy  in  time  to  that  arrangement  of 
groups  in  space  which  causes  certain  pictures  and  statues 
to  seem  to  have  contours  like  circles  or  oblongs.  When 
the  phase  of  feeling  to  be  expressed  in  music  is  slight 
and  simple  in  character,  the  mind  has  no  difficulty  in 
grasping  or  representing  the  whole  in  its  completeness. 
A longer  and  more  complex  subject,  as  treated  in  an  over- 
ture or  a symphony,  presents,  of  course,  more  obstacles 
to  both  comprehension  and  composition.  Nevertheless, 


GROUPING  IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC. 


Ill 


it  too  ought  to  be  characterized  and  manifestly  charac- 
terized by  that  order  which  causes  all  to  seem  organic. 

The  same  principle  probably  furnishes  an  explanation 
of  the  reiterated  chords  with  which  overtures  and 
symphonies  frequently  begin,  and  almost  uniformly  end. 
These  chords  represent  the  opening  and  the  closing  of 
movement  ; and  the  suggestion  is,  that  no  impetus,  such 
as  the  works  containing  them  profess  to  express,  could  be 
started  or  stopped  without  some  such  successive  efforts. 
At  the  same  time,  perhaps  a more  natural  and  exact 
representation  of  what  is  intended,  is  produced  where — 
as,  for  instance,  in  Wagner’s  overture  to  “ Lohengrin” — the 
crescendo  is  used  in  the  introduction  and  the  diminuendo 
in  the  finale.  In  a composition  thus  arranged,  where  the 
intensity  of  the  movement,  as  regards  both  time  and  force, 
is  increased  and  diminished  gradually,  do  we  not  have 
presented  a more  complete  idea  of  the  starting  and  stop- 
ping of  movement — at  all  events,  of  voluntary  movement — 
than  is  possible  in  connection  with  those  methods  that 
seem  only  to  arouse  and  check  it  violently  ? Of  course, 
if  the  composition  be  intended  to  leave  a strong  impres- 
sion at  its  close,  forcible  chords  here  are  justifiable.  But 
much  more  often  than  is  common,  it  might  be  wise  for 
the  composer  to  bear  in  mind  that  in  nature  the  billow 
begins  with  the  brook,  and  the  shore  does  not  stop  the 
surge  of  the  sea  until  successive  waves,  one  by  one,  have 
been  levelled  to  a ripple. 

The  musician,  and  the  poet,  too,  for  that  matter,  might 
learn  a lesson  in  this  regard,  as  well  as  with  reference  to 
this  whole  subject,  from  the  orator.  His  art  is  not  exclu- 
sively aesthetic,  but  it  is  so  nearly  so  that,  in  this  case  at 
least,  it  may  exemplify  like  principles.  It  is  a fact  with 
which  most  of  us  must  be  familiar  that  an  experienced 


1 12 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


public  speaker,  unless  in  a time  of  unusual  excitement, 
begins  his  address  with  his  body  at  rest,  with  his  tones 
uttered  deliberately,  with  the  pitch  of  his  voice  one  that 
is  natural  to  conversation,  and  with  the  range  of  his 
thoughts  not  raised  much  above  the  level  of  those  of  his 
hearers.  In  other  words,  he  starts  where  the  audience  are, 
with  no  more  of  vehemence,  rapidity,  or  brilliancy  than  is 
justified  by  the  condition  of  thought  in  their  minds  at  the 
time.  He  begins  in  the  pkjne  of  ordinary,  dignified  inter- 
course, making  no  statement  with  which  he  has  not  reason 
to  suppose  that  most  of  them  will  agree.  But  as  he 
advances,  his  gestures,  tones,  language,  and  ideas  gradually 
wax  more  and  more  energetic,  striking,  and  original,  till 
he  reaches  his  climax.  In  the  oration,  perfect  in  form,  in- 
tended to  produce  a single  distinct  and  definite  impression, 
this  final  climax,  though  often  preceded  by  many  another 
of  less  importance,  stands  out  pre-eminently  in  advance  of 
them.  In  it  all  the  man’s  powers  of  action  and  of  lan- 
gauge,  and  the  influence  of  all  his  separate  arguments 
that  now  for  the  last  time  are  summed  up  into  a unity, 
seem  to  be  concentrated  like  rays  of  light  in  a focus,  and 
flashed  forth  for  the  enlightenment  or  bewilderment  of 
those  before  him.  But  the  most  artistic  oration  does  not 
end  with  the  climax.  At  least,  a few  sentences  and  sen- 
timents follow  this,  through  which  the  action,  voice,  and 
ideas  of  the  speaker  gradually,  gracefully,  and  sympathet- 
ically descend  to  bear  the  thoughts  of  his  audience  back 
again  to  the  plane  from  which  they  started.  That  is  to 
say,  the  artistic  oration  has  an  end  as  well  as  a beginning 
and  a middle.  It  is  a representation  in  complete  organic 
form  of  the  whole  range  of  experience  natural  to  dis- 
cussion, from  the  time  when  a subject  is  first  broached  in 
ordinary  conversation  to  the  time  when,  having  been 


GROUPING  IN  ORATORY. 


1 13 

argued  fully  and  in  such  ways  as  to  produce  a single  effect, 
the  mind  in  exhaustion  sinks  back,  once  more,  to  the  level 
of  the  conversation  that  suggested  it.  Whoever  had  an 
opportunity  of  listeningto  the  public  addresses  of  Everett, 
Beecher,  or  Gough,  possessing,  as  they  did,  all  these  charac- 
teristics, will  not  fail  to  recognize  without  further  com- 
ment how  much  the  effects  of  oratory  owe  to  the  fact  of 
their  being  grouped  in  strict  accordance  with  the  require- 
ments that  are  fulfilled  in  what  we  have  termed  organic 
form. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


GROUPING  AND  ORGANIC  FORM  IN  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE, 
AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

Places  Corresponding  to  Head,  Trunk,  and  Feet  in  a Picture — Necessity  for 
Considering  them — Different  Kinds  of  Contour — Arches — Semicircles — 
Pyramids — Circles — Ovals — Wedge-Shapes — Same  Effects  Produced  by 
Light  and  Shade  and  Color,  Differing  on  Diffei'ent  Sides,  Above 
and  Below,  at  the  Centre  and  at  the  Circumference — 'Same  Effects  in 
Sculpture — The  Pedestal  or  Foot,  the  Canopy  or  Head,  on  Out-Door 
Statuary — Architecture — The  Foot  in  the  Foundation — The  Trunk  in 
the  Wall — The  Plead  in  the  Roof — Architectural  Grouping  as  a Whole. 


HE  most  uncultured  mind  recognizes  the  superior  at- 


tractiveness of  paintings,  statues,  or  buildings  that 
seem  to  have  “ some  head  and  tail,” — an  expression 
through  which  plain  people  indicate  how  well  they  appre- 
ciate, in  the  arts  appealing  to  sight,  the  characteristics  that 
Plato  designated  by  the  terms  head,  trunk,  and  feet.  A 
distinction  needs  to  be  drawn,  however,  between  these 
terms  as  applied  to  a picture  or  statue,  and  to  a figure  of 
a man  or  animal  that  is  represented  in  either.  If  a man, 
for  instance,  be  represented  as  standing  upright,  his 
head  will  be  at  the  top  of  the  canvas,  his  feet  at  the 
bottom,  and  his  trunk  midway  between  them;  and  thus 
the  organic  form  of  the  picture  and  of  the  man  will 
correspond.  But  if  he  be  represented  in  a foreshortened 
figure,  plunging  toward  the  spectator,  his  head  may  be 
at  the  bottom  or  in  the  centre  of  the  canvas,  and  his  feet 


1 14 


GROUPING  IN  PAINTING. 


115 

at  its  sides  or  top  ; and  the  organic  forms  of  the  picture 
and  of  the  man  will  not  correspond.  Accordingly,  we 
must  not  confound  the  art-characteristics  which  have  been 
indicated  by  the  words  head,  trunk,  and  feet,  with  the 
same  when  applied  literally  to  living  objects. 

Pictures  are  made  to  have  the  effect  of  organic  form , as 
a result,  of  course,  of  order  in  the  grouping ; and  for  this 
almost  everybody  recognizes  the  necessity.  Even  in  tak- 
ing a common  photograph  an  experienced  operator  will 
be  careful  to  arrange  a number  of  persons  so  as  not  to 
have  them  all  sit  in  a row  like  the  members  of  a negro 
minstrel  troup.  He  will  almost  invariably  place  the  larger 
or  more  prominent  person  or  persons  in  the  centre  or  at 
the  top,  thus  giving  the  group  a head  ; and  the  others  on 
either  side  or  below,  thus  giving  it  a trunk  and  feet ; while 
he  will  also  dispose  of  the  whole  party  in  such  away  that 
the  contour  of  the  group,  as  outlined  by  all  their  forms  to- 
gether, shall  seem  to  have  some  shape — that  suggesting  a 
circle,  an  arch,  or  a pyramid,  as  the  case  may  be.  The 
idea  of  producing  these  effects  by  the  order  in  which  dif- 
ferent factors  are  grouped,  is  undoubtedly  suggested  by 
the  appearances  of  things  in  nature,  where  organic  form  is 
a characteristic  not  only  of  individual  fruits  and  leaves, 
but  of  whole  clusters  of  them  ; and  not  only  of  whole 
trees,  but  even  of  the  forests  in  which  they  grow.  (See 
the  trees  in  Fig.  47,  page  157.) 

In  paintings  perhaps  the  most  common  arrangement  is 
one  fulfilling  the  requirements  of  symmetry  also,  in  which 
the  contour  caused  by  different  forms  at  the  top  and  sides 
of  a picture  suggest  an  arched  line  described  from  some  cen- 
tre of  radiation  below,  while  the  bottom  suggests  a straight 
line.  Usually,  of  course,  what  might  be  termed  the  head 
of  the  picture  is  near  the  apex  of  the  arch,  and  the  trunk 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


1 1 6 


is  between  that  and  the  straight  line  which  forms  the  feet. 
In  this  case  the  feet,  which  represent  the  foundation  on 
which  the  whole  rests,  are  made  to  appear,  like  the  ground 
that  underlies  all  objects  in  nature,  particularly  substan- 
tial. Effects  of  form  produced  through  this  method  may 
be  seen  in  the  “ Ezekiel  ” of  Raphael,  the  “ St.  John  ” of 

Domenichino,  the 
“ St.  Michael  ” of 
Guido,  the  “ Poetry  ” 
of  Kaulbach,  and  the 
“ Transfiguration  ” of 
Raphael  (Fig.  46, 
page  147) ; as  well  as 
in  numerous  land- 
scapes, in  which  the 
highest  mountains 
are  not  at  the  sides, 
but  usually  near  the 
centre  of  the  picture, 
while  the  weightiest 
or  darkest  objects  are 
at  the  bottom. 

This  arrangement, 
however,  by  which 
the  chief  outlines  at 

FIQ.  38.  LA  BELLE  JARDINIERE.  RAPHAEL.  tile  top  of  tile  picture 

suggest  a semicircu- 
lar arch,  and  those  at  the  bottom  a broad  and  often  a 
horizontal  base,  though  common,  is  by  no  means  uni- 
versal. Sometimes,  as  in  Raphael’s  “ Sistine  Madonna,” 
“La  Belle  Jardiniere”  (Fig.  38,  above),  and  “Del 
Passegio,”  and  in  innumerable  landscapes  with  mountains 
in  the  middle  distance,  the  chief  outlines  at  the  tops  and 


ORGANIC  NORM  IN  PAINTING. 


ii  7 


sides  suggets  the  form  of  a pyramid  rather  than  of  an 
arch. 

Sometimes,  as  in  Raphael's  “ Madonna  della  Sedia  ” 
(Fig-  39>  below)  and  “Casa  d’Alba,”  the  chief  outlines 
at  the  bottom  as  well  as  at  the  top  suggest  a semicircle, 
causing  the  contour  of  the  picture  as  a whole  to  seem 
circular;  and  sometimes,  as  in  the  “ Madonna  del  Impan- 
nata  ” and  the  famous  “ Sistine,”  the  pitch  of  the  arch 
both  above  and  below 
is  sharpened  and  a 
distinctly  oval  effect  is 
produced,  which,  in 
the  latter,  has  been 
described  as  a dia- 
mond. 

These  arches  and 
pyramids  are  seldom 
perfect,  the  lines  of 
the  former  being  not 
always  exactly  round- 
ed, nor  of  the  latter 
exactly  straight  ; but 
they  are  sufficiently  fig.  39.— madonna  della  sedia.— Raphael. 
regular  to  suggest  the 

idea  of  organic  form , and  not  only  so,  but  of  this 
produced  as  a result  of  design.  As  the  same  effect  is 
imparted  by  almost  any  approximately  symmetrical  dis- 
position of  parts,  artists  resort  to  methods  that,  at  first, 
would  seem  to  suggest  separation  rather  than  unity. 
Thus  a wedge-shape  is  produced  by  the  outlines  of  build- 
ings or  mountains  on  one  side  of  a picture  which  descend 
and  near  its  middle  meet  the  outlines  of  other  buildings 
or  mountains  or  forests,  with  or  without  buildings,  which 


i IS 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


descend  in  a similar  way  on  its  other  side  (see  Fig.  51, 
page  175) ; or  the  whole  painting  is  divided  into  two  parts, 
one  containing  forests  or  hills  and  the  other  plains,  water, 
or  sky  (see  Fig.  40,  page  1 19). 

As  has  been  intimated  already,  the  impression  of  form 
in  nature,  as  in  a cluster  of  berries  or  leaves,  is  conveyed 
not  only  by  contour,  but  also — more  or  less  closely  con- 
nected with  this — by  color,  especially  as  subjected  to 
the  influence  of  light  and  shade.  In  this  way  the  “ Organ 
Recital  ” by  Henry  Lerolle,  in  the  Metropolitan  Museum 
in  New  York,  is  diagonally  divided  into  two  parts,  all  the 
dark  tones  being  at  the  left  lower  side  of  the  picture  and 
all  the  light  tones  at  its  right  upper  side.  A somewhat 
similar  arrangement  characterizes  also  both  of  Corot’s 
paintings  that  are  in  this  book,  namely  Fig.  47,  page  157 
and  Fig.  73,  page  223. 

Almost  all  great  paintings  indicate  similarly  artistic  ad- 
justments of  color,  which  necessarily  accompany,  and  often 
greatly  enhance,  the  effects  of  form  as  produced  by  the 
contour.  Usually,  as  in  external  nature,  the  lighter  tints  are 
above,  in  connection  with  what  has  been  termed  the  head 
of  the  picture,  and  the  dark  and  heavier  shades  below,  in 
connection  with  what  has  been  termed  the  foot  (see  Fig. 
46,  page  147).  But  sometimes  colors  in  the  body  or  at 
the  centre  of  the  picture  are  used  almost  independently 
of  lines.  Just  as  the  play  of  light  and  shade  upon  a sur- 
face in  nature  reveals  to  us  whether  it  be  concave  or 
convex,  so  the  delineation  of  them  upon  canvas  may  cause 
features  to  seem  to  project  or  retire  from  the  main  ground, 
and  thus  influence  what  we  may  call  the  shape  or  form  of 
the  whole.  This  subject  of  the  disposition  of  light  and 
shade  in  the  body  of  the  canvas  touches  closely  upon 
what  was  illustrated  in  connection  with  principality , and 


FIG.  40.— EVENING.— CLAUDE. 


120 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


will  be  further  illustrated  when  we  come  to  central-point 
and  massing.  It  suffices  to  say  here  that,  although  the 
effects  produced  thus  are  sometimes,  as  by  Rembrandt, 
carried  so  far  as  to  appear  unnatural,  even  then  they  are 
worth  study.  Indeed,  if  we  wish  to  recognize  how  much 
more  pleasing,  as  produced  by  this  method,  is  an  appear- 
ance of  form  in  a composition  than  of  formlessness,  we 
can  all  do  this  to  our  entire  satisfaction  by  comparing 
Correggio’s  “ Holy  Night  ” (Fig.  70,  page  215),  or  Muril- 
lo’s “ Holy  Family  ” with  the  same  subjects  as  treated  by 
others  failing  to  recognize  the  value  of  that  which,  now 
and  then,  these  great  artists  were  led  to  exaggerate. 

The  effect  of  organic  form  is  produced  in  sculpture  in 
the  same  general  way,  of  course,  as  in  painting.  Whether 
the  product  contain  a single  feature  or  many  features,  the 
outlines  of  what  Plato  would  term  its  head,  like  the  out- 
lines of  a cluster  of  fruit  around  its  stem,  if  not  actually 
curved  like  an  arch  or  tapered  like  a pyramid,  at  all  events 
are  not  without  good  reason  either  square  or  even  irreg- 
ularly acute,  and  the  base  or  foot  is  broad  and  substantial. 
Examples  of  this  fact  are  furnished  in  almost  all  the 
classic  statues.  Notice,  for  instance,  “ Mithras  Stabbing 
the  Bull”  (Fig.  54,  page  179),  the  “ Tauro  Farnese,” 
“The  Laocoon  ” (Fig.  75,  page  226),  Canova’s  “Cupid 
and  Psyche,”  and,  of  single  features,  the  “ Ganymede  ” 
of  the  Vatican,  and  the  “ Fortuna  ” and  “ Reposing  Faun  ” 
of  the  Capitol ; also  the  Figures  on  pages  74  to  77. 

These  single  statues,  as  a rule,  have  a pillar,  or  post,  or 
drapery,  or  something  at  one  side  of  them  to  enhance  the 
width  of  the  trunk.  All  of  them,  too,  whether  they  be 
busts  or  of  full  length,  rest  upon  a pedestal  of  dimensions 
ample  enough  to  present  the  appearance  of  sufficient  sup- 
port (see  fig.  41,  page  121).  This  pedestal,  of  course,  is  the 


ORGANIC  FORM  IN  SCULPTURE. 


I 2 I 


foot  of  the  statue,  considered  as  a whole.  When  the  work 
thus  supported  is  intended  to  stand  within  doors,  the 
pedestal  need  not  seem  heavy.  But  when  intended  to 
stand  in  the  open  air,  it  should  seem  strong  enough  at  least 
to  resist  the  storms. 


FIG.  41.— MARKET  OF  ATHENS,  RESTORED. 

See  pages  79,  120,  122,  289. 


It  is  a question,  indeed,  whether,  in  the  latter  case,  some- 
thing should  not  be  erected  different  in  some  regards  from 
that  which  is  to  adorn  the  salon;  it  is  a question  whether, 
in  our  own  climate  especially,  the  finer  products  of  this 


I 22 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


art,  representing  the  human  figure,  should  be  left 
wholly  exposed  to  the  adverse  influence  of  the  weather. 
A canopy  erected  over  them,  of  the  same  material  as 
themselves,  would  certainly  be  appropriate  and  beauti- 
ful. (See  the  statue  in  the  foreground  of  Fig.  41,  page 
12 1.)  Very  likely,  too,  a thoroughly  cultivated  taste 
would  detect  in  this  arrangement  the  only  possible 
method  of  finishing  the  monument  as  a whole,  in 
such  a way  as  to  give  it  not  only  the  completeness 
of  form  manifested  in  a foot  and  trunk,  but  also  in 
a head. 

The  necessity  of  organism  is  probably  recognized  more 
generally  in  architecture  than  in  any  of  the  other  arts.  If, 
for  instance,  we  perceive  columns,  buttresses,  or  even  dead 
zval/s,  as  they  are  termed,  resting  on  the  ground  with  no 
base,  or  foundation  of  any  kind  supporting  them  ; or  if, 
with  this  underneath,  we  perceive  no  cornice,  freize, 
entablature,  or  roof  above  them,  in  either  case  there  will 
be  suggested  the  idea  of  incompleteness.  Our  minds  re- 
quire here,  as  in  all  the  arts,  the  appearance  of  a foot, 
trunk,  and  head,  which  in  architecture  are  represented  by 
the  foundation,  wall,  and  roof.  “ The  foundation,”  says 
Mr.  Ruskin  in  his  “ Stones  of  Venice,”  “ is  to  the  wall  what 
the  paw  is  to  the  animal.  It  is  a long  foot,  wider  than  the 
wall,  on  which  the  wall  is  to  stand,  and  which  keeps  it 
from  settling  into  the  ground.  It  is  most  necessary  that 
this  great  element  of  security  should  be  visible  to  the  eye, 
and  therefore  made  a part  of  the  structure  above  ground. 
The  eye,  taught  by  the  reason,  requires  some  additional 
preparation  or  foot  for  the  wall,  and  the  building  is  felt 
to  be  imperfect  without  it.  The  body  of  the  wall  ” — cor- 
responding to  what  in  this  essay  has  been  called  the  trunk 
— “ is  of  course  the  principal  mass  of  it,  formed  of  mud 


ORGANIC  FORM  IN  ARCHITECTURE. 


123 


or  clay,  of  brick  or  stones,  of  logs  or  hewn  timber.”  (See 
Figs.  1,  24,  61,  pages  15,  79,  193.) 

In  addition  to  foot  and  trunk,  corresponding  to  founda- 
tion and  wall,  the  building  must  have  a head,  which,  of 
course,  can  be  represented  only  by  the  roof  and  its  accom- 
paniments. As  Mr.  Ruskin  has  been  quoted  with  refer- 
ence to  the  foundation  and  wall,  he  may  as  well  be  quoted 
with  reference  to  the  roof.  “ Has  it  never  occurred  to 


FIG.  42. -OLD  PICTURE  OF  ST.  SOPHIA,  CONSTANTINOPLE. 

See  pages  18,  76,  77,  96,  124,  180,  1S7,  190,  207,  261,  262. 

you,”  he  asks  in  the  first  of  his  “ Lectures  on  Architecture,” 
“ what  effect  the  cottage  would  have  upon  your  feelings 
if  it  had  no  roof?  no  visible  roof,  I mean.  The  very  soul 
of  the  cottage,  the  essence  and  meaning  of  it  are  in  its 
roof ; it  is  that  mainly  wherein  consists  its  shelter,  that 
wherein  it  differs  most  completely  from  a cleft  in  rocks, 
or  bower  in  woods.  It  is  in  its  thick,  impenetrable,  cover- 
lid, its  close  thatch,  that  its  whole  heart  and  hospitality 
are  concentrated.  Consider  the  difference  in  sound  of 


124 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


the  expressions  ‘ Beneath  my  Roof  ’ and  ‘ In  my  Walls,’ 
and  you  will  quickly  see  how  important  a part  of  the  cot- 
tage the  roof  always  must  be  to  the  mind  as  well  as  to 
the  eye,  and  how,  from  seeing  it,  the  greater  part  of  our 
pleasure  must  continually  arise.  Now  do  you  suppose 
that  that  which  is  so  all  important  in  a cottage  can  be  of 
small  importance  in  your  own  dwelling-house  ? Do  you 
think  that  by  any  splendor  of  architecture — any  height 
of  stones — you  can  atone  to  the  mind  for  the  loss  of  this 
aspect  of  the  roof?”  (See  Figs.  24,  page  79  ; 28,  page 
84;  32,  page  89;  33,  page  90;  72,  page  221  ; 85,  page 
258  ; and  69,  page  208,  as  well  as  Fig.  42,  page  123.) 

Once  more  the  general  contour  of  a building  may  pre- 
sent effects  of  grouping  similar  to  those  already  noticed  in 
painting  and  sculpture.  The  various  projections,  gables, 
pediments,  chimneys,  domes,  spires,  whatever  they  may 
be,  that  make  up  the  wings  and  roofs,  may  be  arranged 
so  that,  taken  together,  they  can  be  inscribed  in  a low  or 
a high  arch,  rounded  or  sharpened  like  a pyramid.  As  a 
rule,  the  greater  the  appearance  of  the  exercise  of  design 
in  the  organic  arrangement  of  these  features,  the  more 
satisfactory  are  they  to  the  eye  that  looks  to  find  in  them 
the  results  of  art.  (See  the  “ Taj  Mahal,”  Fig.  3,  page  19  ; 
“ St.  Peter’s,  Rome,”  Fig.  23,  page  78  ; “ Shadyside 
Church,”  Fig.  34,  page  91  ; “St.  Mark’s,  Venice,”  Fig. 
31,  page  88;  “ Poutou  Temple,”  Fig.  69,  page  208;  “St. 
Hilaire’s,  Rouen,”  Fig.  80,  page  237;  “Tower  of  Boris, 
Moscow,”  Fig.  83,  page  239,  and  “ St.  Sophia’s,  Constan- 
tinople,” Fig.  42,  page  123.) 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


OTHER  METHODS  OF  CLASSIFICATION  AND  COMPOSITION, 
AS  DEDUCED  FROM  THOSE  ALREADY  CONSIDERED. 

Recapitulation  of  the  Principles  and  Methods  Conditioned  upon  the  Re- 
quirements of  the  Mind — And  upon  those  of  Matter — Other  Methods 
Conditioned  by  the  Product  are  now  to  be  Considered — The  Product  a 
Combination  of  Effects — Produced  mainly  upon  the  Mind — Or  upon 
the  Senses  ; or  partly  upon  the  Mind  and  partly  upon  the  Senses — Lead- 
ing, respectively,  to  Likeness  by  Way  of  Congruity — Of  Repetition — 
And  of  Consonance — Illustrations  of  the  Three— All  the  Methods  of 
Composition  Result  from  Combining  these  Three  with  the  Seven  Gen- 
eral Methods  Mentioned  above — Chart  of  the  Art-Methods — Additional 
Statements — Correspondence  between  these  Methods  and  their  Arrange- 
ments and  those  given  by  others. 


V\/"E  have  now  noticed  the  more  fundamental  principles, 
together  with  the  corresponding  methods  developed 
from  them,  of  classification  and  art-composition.  Of  the 
methods  mainly  conditioned  upon  the  requirements  of  the 
mind,  three,  respectively  determined  by  the  more  distinc- 
tive demands  of  mind , of  matter,  and  of  a combination  of 
the  two,  are  particularly  applicable  in  their  relations  to 
mental  conceptions,  namely,  unity,  variety,  complexity. 
Three  more,  analogously  determined,  are  particularly 
applicable  in  their  relations  to  material  construction, 
namely,  order,  confusion,  and  counteraction.  One  more 
is  particularly  applicable  to  the  result  produced  by  the 
blending  of  the  requirements  of  conception  and  construc- 
tion. This  is  termed  grouping.  Besides  these  methods, 


125 


126 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


we  have  found  seven  others,  mainly  based  upon  the  re- 
quirements of  matter,  which  respectively  correspond  to 
the  above  in  all  regards:  viz.,  comparison , contrast , comple- 
ment, principality,  subordination,  balance,  and  organism. 

These  principles  and  methods  are  largely  theoretical  and 
general  in  character.  From  them,  to  complete  our  sub- 
ject, we  now  need  to  develop  methods  more  practical  and 
definite.  This  can  be  done  only  as  we  consider  certain 
conditions  determined  mainly  by  the  product. 

This  product  is  a combination  of  effects  resulting  from 
an  application  to  material  conditions  of  the  mental 
principles  involved,  if  in  science,  in  classification  ; and  if 
in  art,  in  composition.  These  effects,  whether  they  be  of 
words  or  tones,  as  in  arts  of  sound,  or  of  hues  or  shapes, 
as  in  arts  of  sight,  may  all  be  said  to  be  produced  in  strict 
analogy  with  the  three  tendencies  already  shown  to  be 
operative  everywhere  in  connection  with  this  subject  i.e., 
either  mentally,  materially,  or  in  both  ways  combined ; in 
other  words,  either  upon  thought,  upon  the  senses,  or 
partly  upon  one  and  partly  upon  the  other.  If  the  meaning 
of  this  statement  be  shown  by  applying  it  to  the  method 
based  upon  the  fundamental  principle  in  classification  of 
putting  like  with  like — in  other  words,  to  comparison — the 
reader  will  find  no  difficulty  in  applying  it  to  the  other 
methods.  Let  us  see,  therefore,  how  each  of  these  ten- 
dencies influences  comparison.  The  effect  of  likeness 
underlying  this  method  may  be  produced  either,  first, 
upon  the  mind , i.e.,  upon  thought,  by  way  of  awaken- 
ing like  associations  or  suggestions ; or,  second,  upon  the 
senses,  i.e.,  upon  the  ear  or  eye,  by  way  of  the  actual  ap- 
pearances of  the  forms ; or,  third,  upon  the  mind  and 
senses  together,  i.e.,  partly  upon  the  one  and  partly  upon 
the  other. 


CLASSIFICATION  AND  COMPOSITION.  \2J 

When  the  effect  of  likeness  is  produced  upon  the  mind , 
objects  seem  alike,  because  they  are  seen  in  the  same  or 
a like  sphere  of  place,  time,  or  activity.  Men  have  come 
to  associate  them  in  their  ideas  ; and,  by  a law  of  thought, 
they  naturally  associate  them  in  reality.  In  this  way,  a 
child  or  savage  always  connects  the  bat  with  the  birds,  the 
seal  with  the  fishes,  the  sponge  with  the  sea-weeds  ; and 
there  are  no  limits  to  the  applications  of  the  method,  ex- 
cept those  that  bound  the  human  imagination.  When, 
because  things  are  seen  to  go  together,  it  is  supposed  that 
they  do  so  in  fulfilment  of  some  like,  though  unapparent, 
principle,  in  accordance  with  which  they  ought  to  go 
together,  there  is  a possibility  of  finding  a reason  for 
associating  the  most  dissimilar  objects  conceivable. 

Not  so,  however,  with  those  brought  together  because  of 
having  like  effects  upon  the  senses,  or  like  forms.  Ex- 
amined by  this  test,  it  is  found  that  the  bat  has  hair,  and 
the  bird  feathers  ; the  seal  has  fur,  and  the  fish  scales  ; and 
the  sponge  and  sea-weed  do  not  absorb  their  nutriment  in 
the  same  way.  Therefore  they  are  separated.  But  this 
principle,  applied  exclusively,  leads  to  very  small  classes, 
all  the  members  of  which  must  be  as  like  as  two  terrier 
dogs  or  Shetland  ponies.  To  accomplish  any  practical 
purpose,  classification  needs  to  be  more  general  than  this. 
It  needs  to  be  recognized,  for  instance,  that  not  only  is 
the  terrier  a dog,  but  also  the  hound  ; and  not  only  so,  but 
that  there  is  a sense  in  which  the  wolf  also  belongs  to  the 
same  family.  This  recognition  results  from  an  application, 
in  addition  to  the  test  of  the  senses,  of  the  test  also  of  the 
mind  so  far  as  this  is  based  upon  rational  rather  than 
merely  imaginative  grounds.  This  latter  test,  applied  in 
conjunction  with  the  former,  gives  us,  as  has  been  said, 
the  third  reason  for  classifying  objects.  It  is  partly 


128 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


because  their  forms  are  alike,  but  partly  also  because  their 
spheres  of  time,  place,  or  activity  are  alike.  Animals,  for 
instance,  are  put  into  the  same  class,  partly  because  of 
similarity  in  appearance,  but  partly  also  because  of  simi- 
larity in  such  things  as  their  haunts  and  habits,  their  ways 
of  breeding  and  rearing  their  young,  and  of  feeding  and 
obtaining  their  food  ; in  fact,  of  manifesting  in  connection 
with  their  surroundings  that  which  is  the  law  of  their 
existence.  Such  are  the  three  reasons  why  objects  seem 
to  have  like  or  unlike  effects,  and  all  will  recognize  that 
there  are  no  possible  phases  of  resemblance  to  which  one 
of  the  three  may  not  apply. 

In  art,  the  grouping  of  factors  which  corresponds  to  the 
classification,  which  results  from  connecting  objects  be- 
cause of  like  effects  produced  upon  the  mind  by  way  of 
association  or  suggestion,  may  be  termed  congruity  (from 
con,  together,  and  gruo,  to  grow).  It  means  that  two 
things  are  conceived  of  as  naturally  growing  or  going 
together;  and  it  may  cause  them  to  be  connected  when  in 
reality  they  are  as  unlike  as  the  sounds  of  a church  bell 
and  of  an  organ,  or  as  the  crape  of  a widow’s  garb  and  a 
white  face. 

The  art-grouping  which  corresponds  to  the  classification 
which  results  from  connecting  objects  because  of  like 
effects  produced  upon  the  senses,  in  that  they  are  alike  in 
actual  appearance,  is  termed  repetition.  This  needs  no 
illustration. 

The  art-grouping  which  corresponds  to  the  classifica- 
tion which  results  from  connecting  objects  because  alike 
to  a partial  extent  in  both  the  regards  just  mentioned,  is 
termed  consonance.  This  word  is  borrowed  from  music, 
and  it  applies  to  the  conditions  which  we  now  wish  to 
represent  by  it  far  more  exactly  than  those  who  first  used 


CLASSIFICATION'  AND  COMPOSITION. 


129 


it  supposed.  A consonant  tone  goes  with  another  in  art, 
not  only  because  men  have  found  the  two  going  together 
in  that  which,  when  heard  in  nature,  is  termed  harmony  ; 
but  also,  as  modern  science  has  discovered,  because  the 
one  tone  is  in  part  actually  repetitious  of  the  other,  both 
being  compounded  in  part  of  like  tones.  This,  as  well  as 
analogous  facts  with  reference  to  the  appropriateness  of 
the  term,  as  applied  to  the  groupings  of  lines  and  colors, 
will  be  explained  hereafter. 

It  may  be  well  to  add  here,  in  illustration  of  these  differ- 
ent methods  of  likening  factors,  that  congruity  might  cause 
the  artist  to  associate  in  a product  things  as  different 
essentially  as  rouge  on  a cheek  and  blondined  hair,  or  a 
hunting  song  and  the  sound  of  a horn  ; that  repetition , on 
the  contrary,  would  demand  as  much  likeness  as  in  the 
allied  factors  of  a piece  of  fringe,  or  of  a picket-fence, 
while  consonance , half-way  between  the  two,  would  be 
satisfied  were  he  to  unite  sounds  as  different  in  some 
regards  as  those  of  the  flute,  the  trumpet,  the  violin,  and 
the  drum,  or  shapes  as  different  in  some  regards  as  a 
chimney  and  a tower,  or  a window  and  a porch.  In  architec- 
ture, a porch  or  a bay-window  on  one  side  of  a building, 
and  a wing  or  hot-house  on  the  other  side  of  it,  might  be 
alike  by  way  of  congruity.  Windows  and  doors  of  the 
same  sizes  and  shapes  would  be  alike  byway  of  repetition  ; 
but  merely  a similar  pitch  of  angles  over  windows  and  doors 
and  in  the  gables  of  a roof  above  them,  would  be  enough  to 
make  all  alike  by  way  of  consonance. 

There  are  other  analogies,  which  will  be  brought  out 
farther  on,  between  the  methods  of  classification  and  of 
art-construction  ; but  there  is  no  necessity  for  considering 
them  here.  Let  us  now  leave  this  phase  of  our  subject 
and  the  suggestions  to  be  derived  from  it,  and  take  the 


130 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


seven  methods,  all  of  which,  as  lias  been  said,  are  mani 
fested  in  the  production  of  a class  or  of  an  art-product, — 
namely,  comparison , contrast , complement , principality , sub- 
ordination, balance , and  organic  form , and  combine  each  of 
them  with  each  of  the  methods  of  causing  likeness  that  has 
just  been  mentioned, — namely,  congruity , repetition , and 
consonance.  The  result,  in  terms  which  will  be  explained 
more  fully  hereafter,  is  given  on  page  131.  It  must  be  borne 
in  mind,  however,  that,  according  to  the  conditions  already 
stated,  the  methods  thus  arranged  on  this  page  are 
not  supposed  to  be  necessarily  exclusive  of  one  another. 
Those  first  mentioned  are  developed  into  those  men- 
tioned later,  and  therefore  include  them.  Comparison , 
for  instance,  may  be  manifested  by  way  either  of  con- 
gruity, repetition , or  consonance.  But  congruity  also  may 
be  manifested  by  way  of  repetition  or  consonance ; and 
repetition  by  way  of  consonance.  The  same  is  true  of 
others  of  the  methods,  particularly  of  those  occupying 
corresponding  positions  in  the  different  columns. 

Duration , extension , accent , quality,  pitch,  rhythm,  propor- 
tion, and  harmony  are  placed  in  the  last  two  columns 
merely  in  order  to  complete  the  analysis,  and  show  its 
connection  with  every  phase  of  form.  They  will  not  be 
considered  in  this  volume,  mainly  because,  built  up  as 
they  are  in  the  effort  to  carry  into  execution  the  other 
more  elementary  methods,  they  require  an  entirely  differ- 
ent mode  of  treatment. 

The  terms  used  in  order  to  define  the  methods  have 
been  chosen  from  those  applying  to  characteristics  gener- 
ally recognized  to  be  essential  to  artistic  excellence. 
Ruskin,  for  instance,  in  various  ways  and  works,  especially 
in  the“  Elements  of  Drawing,  Letter  III,”  speaks  of  princi- 
pality, repetition,  continuity,  curvature  (considered  under 


METHODS  OF  ART-COMPOSITION. 


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132 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


gradation),  radiation  (central-point),  contrast,  interchange, 
consistency  or  breadth  (the  same  as  massing),  harmony, 
help  (a  form  of  consonance),  and  grouping.  Charles 
Blanc  again,  in  the  introduction  to  his  “Art  in  Ornament 
and  Dress,’’  mentions  repetition,  to  which — as  he  says — 
belongs  consonance,  alternation  to  which  belongs  con- 
trast, symmetry  to  which  belongs  radiation,  progression 
to  which  belongs  gradation,  and  balanced  confusion  to 
which  belongs  deliberate  complication.  Of  these  he  adds: 
“ Just  as  the  twenty-six  letters  of  the  alphabet  have  been 
and  will  be  sufficient  to  form  the  words  necessary  for  the 
expression  of  all  human  thought,  so  certain  elements 
susceptible  to  combination  amongst  themselves  have 
sufficed  and  will  suffice  to  create  ornaments  whose  variety 
may  be  multiplied  indefinitely.”  The  peculiarity  in  the 
list  of  the  methods  as  here  presented,  then,  aside  from 
the  fact  that  their  number  is  somewhat  increased  by  the 
addition  of  features  acknowledged  to  be  artistic  but  not 
usually  mentioned  in  this  connection,  is  their  arrangement 
and  completeness,  and  their  derivation  from  the  methods 
necessarily  employed  by  the  mind  in  the  work  of  classifi- 
cation. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


CONGRUITY,  INCONGRUITY,  AND  COMPREHENSIVENESS. 

The  Order  of  the  Arrangement  of  the  Methods  in  the  last  Chapter  Corre- 
sponds to  that  of  the  Use  of  them  by  the  Artist — Who  in  each  Art  must 
Start  with  a Mental  Conception,  and  the  Condition  of  Mind  Underlying 
Comparison  Based  upon  Congruity — General  Effect  of  this — Incongruity 
in  Nature  and  Art — Comprehensiveness — Congruity  in  Poetry — At  the 
Basis  of  the  Law  of  the  Unities — -Why  the  Latter  is  not  Applicable  to 
the  Drama  — Congruity,  Incongruity,  arid  Comprehensiveness  in 
“ Hamlet  ” — In  “ Lear  ” — In  “ Patience  ” — The  same  in  the  Develop- 
ment of  Musical  Themes — As  in  the  Overture  and  Opera  of  “ Tann- 
hauser” — Congruity  Uniting  by  Association  Different  Appearances  in 
the  Arts  of  Sight — Mainly  this  that  Keeps  Artists  from  Using  together 
Forms  of  Gothic  and  Greek  Architecture — Incongruity  and  Comprehen- 
siveness in  the  Arts  of  Sight — Raphael's  “Transfiguration” — Same 
Methods  in  Architecture. 


'THE  methods  of  art-composition  not  already  treated 
will  now  be  considered  in  the  order  in  which  they 
are  arranged  to  one  reading  line  by  line  the  list  of  them 
given  on  page  131.  It  is  well  to  notice,  too,  that 
this  order  is  the  one  in  which,  as  a rule,  they  are  used  by 
the  artist.  As  has  been  said,  he  is  influenced  first  by 
mental  and  then  by  material  considerations.  He  begins 
with  a conception  which,  in  his  mind,  is  associated  with 
certain  forms  or  series  of  forms.  To  represent  this  con- 
ception is  his  primary  object.  But  he  cannot  attain  it, 
unless  the  forms,  or  series  of  forms,  added  by  him  in  the 
process  of  elaboration,  continue  to  have  the  same  general 


133 


134 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


effect  as  those  with  which  he  starts.  About  the  latter 
therefore,  as  a nucleus,  he  arranges  other  like  forms  accord- 
ing to  the  general  method  of  comparison.  Controlled  at 
first  chiefly  by  a desire  to  have  them  manifest  this,  in 
order  to  express  a like  thought,  or  to  be  alike  by  way  of 
congrtiity,  afterwards,  descending  to  details,  he  is  careful 
to  make  them  alike  by  way  of  repetition  and  consonance. 
While  thus  securing  unity  of  effect,  however,  he  is  con- 
fronted by  the  variety  and  complexity  of  the  natural  forms 
from  which  he  is  obliged  to  construct  his  art-work.  But 
he  soon  finds  that  these  can  be  adapted  to  his  purposes 
through  the  methods  of  contrast  and  complement ; and, 
when  it  comes  to  grouping,  he  is  able  still  to  suggest  unity 
by  fulfilling  the  requirements  of  order,  in  spite  of  confusion, 
through  counteraction  and  the  arrangement  of  factors  in 
accordance  with  methods  of  principality,  subordination, 
balance,  and  organic  form. 

Corresponding  conditions  in  the  cases  also  of  congruity, 
repetition , and  consonance  lead  to  the  use  of  the  methods 
associated  with  them.  For  these  reasons,  it  is  evident 
that  the  order  in  which  these  methods  are  to  be  consid- 
ered here  is  the  order  in  which,  as  a rule,  they  are  used 
by  the  artist  in  his  practical  work  of  composition. 

He  begins  this  work,  as  has  been  said,  with  conceptions 
which  are  associated  in  his  mind  with  certain  forms  or 
series  of  forms  ; and  he  develops  it  artistically  by  group- 
ing around  these  forms  others  that  are  like  them.  So 
long,  however,  as  the  thought  appears  more  important 
than  the  mode  of  its  expression,  all  forms  to  him  seem 
to  be  symbols ; and  any  forms  seem  sufficiently  alike 
for  the  purpose  of  art  if  they  be  alike  in  what  they 
symbolize.  The  conditions  of  nature,  moreover,  are  such 
that  this  kind  of  likeness  may  be  affirmed  of  many  objects 


CONGRUITY. 


135 


that  in  other  regards  differ  greatly.  There  are  things  like 
bats  and  owls,  seals  and  whales,  wind  and  rain,  cloud  and 
darkness,  that  are  found  so  often  growing  or  going  to- 
gether as  to  be  recognized  as  naturally  congruous.  Be- 
cause of  this,  when  seen  in  nature,  they  give  rise  to  like 
suggestions ; and,  of  course,  they  do  the  same  in  art. 
Nothing  further  is  needed  to  explain  why  forms  in  the 
latter  should  be  compared  and  grouped  because  they 
have  like  effects  upon  the  mind,  or  have  what  we  have 
termed  congruity. 

As  thus  interpreted,  congruity  differs  little,  if  at  all, 
from  the  familiar  rhetorical  requirement  of  propriety  ; 
and  all  that  is  essential  for  it  is  a concurrence,  sufficient  to 
suggest  unity,  in  the  impressions  legitimately  conveyed 
by  different  parts  of  a composition  as  compared  either 
with  one  another  or  with  the  whole. 

Effects  of  congruity  thus  produced  are  necessarily 
accompanied  largely  by  those  of  incongruity.  This  is 
partly  because  so  many  things  that  are  congruous  in  what 
they  suggest  to  thought,  are  incongruous  in  what  they 
are  in  form,  and  partly  because  so  many  things  that  sug- 
gest the  congruous  to  one  mind  suggest  to  another,  dif- 
ferently disposed  or  informed,  the  incongruous.  For 
instance,  the  sounds  of  a fife  and  of  a drum  compare  by 
way  of  congruity.  Both  are  elements  of  the  same  kind  of 
martial  music,  the  conception  of  which,  therefore,  both 
are  alike  in  suggesting.  Again,  on  the  western  plains  of 
our  country,  prairie-dogs  and  rattlesnakes  live  in  the  same 
sand-holes  ; and  congruity  in  a picture  of  the  latter  would 
represent  the  two  side  by  side.  But  it  is  evident  that 
there  is  no  reason  in  their  forms  why  a fife  and  a drum,  a 
prairie-dog  and  a rattlesnake,  should  go  together ; nor 
would  they  suggest  a reason  to  any  one  not  conversant 


136  THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 

with  the  conventionalities  of  music,  or  the  facts  of  fron- 
tier observation.  He  would  be  obliged  to  consider  both 
combinations  incongruous.  A similar  judgment  is  certain 
to  be  passed  by  some  upon  any  group  of  factors,  no  matter 
what,  whenever  they  depend  for  the  unity  of  their  effect 
upon  the  way  in  which,  as  in  the  case  of  congruity,  they 
commend  themselves  to  individual  taste  and  experience. 

When  an  art-product  contains  results  both  of  comparison 
in  the  congruous  and  of  contrast  in  the  incongruous , yet 
brought  together  in  such  a way  that  both,  though  counterac- 
tive’,  are  clearly  perceived  to  be  complementary  parts  of  one 
and  the  same  composition,  the  impression  produced  upon 
thought  is  that  of  comprehensiveness.  This  term  has  been 
chosen  because  it  involves  a conception  of  diversity 
both  in  quantity  and  quality,  and  also  of  grasp  which 
makes  of  all  a unity.  Breadth  might  express  the  same 
idea,  but  it  already  has  a technical  meaning  indicating 
an  effect  of  composition  which  is  entirely  different.  (See 
Chapter  XIII.) 

Further  facts  with  reference  to  these  methods  can  be 
best  considered  as  we  notice  how  they  operate  as  applied 
in  each  art.  Congruity  in  poetry  is  that  which  causes 
one,  when  writing  an  elegy,  a love-song,  or  an  epic,  to 
select  in  each  case  not  only  an  entirely  different  phase  of 
thought  and  illustration,  but  a different  form  of  verse. 
The  following  lines,  for  instance,  not  only  enjoin  but 
exemplify  this  method  : 

But  when  loud  surges  lash  the  sounding  shore, 

The  hoarse  rough  verse  should  like  the  torrent  roar. 

— Essay  on  Criticism  : Pope. 

Soft  is  the  strain  when  Zephyr  gently  blows, 

And  the  smooth  stream  in  smoother  numbers  flows. 

— Idem. 


CONGRUITY. 


137 


When  scenes  or  events  represent  a certain  country  or 
period,  congruity  requires  that  all  the  delineations  con- 
form strictly  to  the  conditions  of  each.  In  connection  with 
the  allied  method  of  consonance , it  underlies,  too,  the  old 
law  of  criticism  ascribed  to  the  Greeks,  enjoining  that  a 
drama  should  contain  only  as  much  as  might  be  supposed 
to  take  place  in  the  time  given  to  the  representation,  or, 
at  most,  in  one  day,  and  in  one  place , and  with  one  kind 
of  action , by  which  latter  was  meant  with  either  tragic  or 
comic  situations,  but  not  with  both.  This  “ law  of  the 
unities  ” of  time,  place,  and  action,  as  it  is  called,  was 
based  at  least  upon  a true  principle.  Brevity,  local  color, 
and  directness  are  always  elements  of  artistic  excellence. 
It  is  largely  the  degree  in  which  these  are  manifested  that 
imparts  the  peculiar  flavor,  the  pervasive  atmosphere,  that 
seems  to  be  the  distinctive  characteristic  of  poems  like 
Goethe’s  “ Hermann  und  Dorothea,”  Keats’s  “ St.  Agnes’ 
Eve,”  Goldsmith’s  “ Deserted  Village,”  Campbell’s  “ Ger- 
trude of  Wyoming,”  and  Tennyson’s  “ Gardener’s  Daugh- 
ter ” and  “ Enoch  Arden,”  not  to  speak  of  longer  poems 
like  the  “ Fairy  Queen  ” and  the  “ Idyls  of  the  King.” 
But,  however  acceptable  this  “ law  of  the  unities  ” 
may  have  been  to  the  ancient  Greeks,  who  were  less 
interested  than  people  of  our  day  in  the  analysis  of 
motives  and  the  development  of  character,  it  does  not 
' allow  sufficient  comprehensiveness  for  the  purposes  of 
modern  literary  art,  least  of  all  of  the  dramatic.  Any- 
thing in  art  is  right  which  enhances  an  effect  legitimate 
to  the  product  in  which  it  is  used.  In  order  to  show  the 
results  of  the  influences  at  work  in  motives  and  character, 
length  of  time  is  almost  indispensable.  So,  too,  is  change 
of  place  ; while  the  incongruous  association  of  tragedy 
and  comedy  in  the  action,  not  only  prevents  monotony, 


138 


THE  GENE  STS  OF  ART-FORM. 


but,  as  universally  in  the  case  of  contrast,  increases  the 
distinctive  impression  of  both.  Imaginative  people  never 
have  so  strong  an  inclination  to  laugh  as  at  a funeral,  and 
tears  never  flow  so  freely  as  immediately  after  a burst  of 
merriment. 

In  the  drama  of  “ Hamlet,”  for  instance,  the  grave-scene 
at  the  opening  of  the  fifth  act,  filled  as  it  is  with  its  grim 
humor,  is  to  some  extent  incongruous  ; yet  in  view  of  the 
play  that  Hamlet  has  made  of  all  the  serious  matters  of 
life,  love,  and  death,  in  his  dealings  with  his  father’s  mur- 
derers as  well  as  with  Ophelia  and  Laertes,  it  is  evident 
that  the  comedy  introduced  here,  while  counteracting,  dis- 
tinctly complements  the  main  action  of  the  drama,  and 
thus  serves  to  make  more  comprehensive  the  general  con- 
ception that  organizes  it. 

What,  too,  could  be  more  effective  than  the  suggestions 
of  congruity  in  one  sense  and  of  incongruity  in  another, 
and  thus  of  a comprehensiveness  of  every  possible  situa- 
tion that  are  given  in  the  storm  scene  in  “ King  Lear,” 
representing  the  feigned  fooling  and  madness  of  Edgar,  the 
real  fooling  of  the  fool,  and  the  real  madness  of  the  King. 

Edgar  (almost  unclothed).  Tom  ’s  a-cold. — O,  do  de  do  de  do  de.— Bless 
thee  from  whirlwinds,  star-blasting,  and  taking.  Do  poor  Tom  some 
charity,  whom  the  foul  fiend  vexes.  There  could  I have  him  now — 
and  there  and  there — and  there  again — and  there — 

Lear.  What,  have  his  daughters  brought  him  to  this  pass  ? 

Couldst  thou  save  nothing  ? Didst  thou  give  them  all  ? 

Fool.  Nay,  he  reserved  a blanket,  else  we  had  been  all  shamed. 

Lear.  Now  all  the  plagues  that  in  the  pendulous  air 

Hang  fated  o’er  men’s  faults,  light  on  thy  daughters  ! 

Kent.  He  hath  no  daughters,  sir. 

Lear.  Death,  traitor  ! nothing  could  have  subdued  nature 
To  such  lowness  but  his  unkind  daughters. 

Is  it  the  fashion  that  discarded  fathers 
Should  have  thus  little  mercy  on  their  flesh  ? 


INCONGRUITY. 


139 


Judicious  punishment  ! ’T  was  this  flesh  begot 
Those  pelican  daughters. 

Edg.  Pillicock  sat  on  pillicoclc-hill : — 

Hallo,  hallo,  loo,  loo. 

Fool.  This  cold  night  will  turn  us  all  to  fools  and  madmen. 

Edg.  Take  heed  o’  the  foul  fiend. 

— King  Lear.  iii. , 4 : Shakespeare. 

And  to  descend  from  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous,  who 
that  has  ever  seen  and  heard  the  lackadaisical  maidens  in 
Gilbert  and  Sullivan’s  “ Patience,”  side  by  side  with  their 
robust  soldier  suitors,  can  doubt  the  artistic  value  of 
incongruity  ? In  fact,  as  is  everywhere  acknowledged,  it 
is  always  one,  if  not  the  chief,  source  of  the  ludicrous. 
It  is  not  invariably  recognized,  however,  how  large  a part 
of  the  effect  of  the  latter  is  owing  to  the  implied  compre- 
hensiveness of  view  in  which  have  been  included  both  the 
incongruous  and  the  congruous ; or,  in  other  words,  how 
large  a part  of  wit  is  the  wisdom  of  it. 

In  the  following,  for  instance,  it  would  be  difficult  to 
determine  which  of  the  two  effects  is  greatest — that  of  con- 
gruity  caused  by  the  judgments  based  upon  dress,  character- 
izing the  estimates  of  each,  or  that  of  incongruity  caused  by 
the  philosophic  seriousness  with  which  they  are  expressed, 
as  well  as  by  the  different  views  indicated  in  the  forms  of 
expression.  No  better  illustration  than  this,  by  the  way, 
could  be  given  of  antithesis , which,  as  will  be  recalled, 
was  defined  in  Chapter  II.,  as  an  effect  produced  when  two 
objects  differ  diametrically  in  at  least  one  particular,  and 
yet  agree  in  others. 

Patience.  But  I have  some  news  for  you.  The  Thirty-fifth  Dragoon 
Guards  have  halted  in  the  village,  and  are  even  now  on  their  way  to  this 
very  spot. 

Ang.  (contemptuously).  The  Thirty-fifth  Dragoon  Guards  ! 

Saph.  They  are  fleshly  men,  of  full  habit. 


140 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


Ella.  We  care  nothing  for  Dragoon  Guards. 

Patience.  But,  bless  me,  you  were  all  in  love  with  them  a year  ago  ! 
Saph.  A year  ago  ! 

Ang.  My  poor  child,  you  don't  understand  these  things.  A year  ago 
they  were  very  well  in  our  eyes.  But  since  then  our  tastes  have  been  ethere- 
alized,  our  perceptions  exalted.  {To  others.)  Come  ! it  is  time  to  lift  up 
our  voices  in  morning  carol  to  our  Reginald.  Let  us  to  his  door. 

( The  ladies  go  off.  two  and  two , singing  ref  rain  of ) 

Twenty  lovesick  maidens  we, 

And  we  die  for  love  of  thee  ! 

Twenty  lovesick  maidens  we. 

Lovesick  all  against  our  will, 

Twenty  years  hence  we  shall  be 
Twenty  lovesick  maidens  still  ! 

{Enter  officers  of  Dragoon  Guards  from  behind  rock , led  by  Major.  They 
march  round  stage.) 

Chorus  of  Dragoons. 

The  soldiers  of  our  Queen 
Are  linked  in  friendly  tether  ; 

Upon  the  battle-scene 

They  fight  the  foe  together. 

There  every  mother’s  son 

Prepared  to  fight  and  fall  is ; 

The  enemy  of  one 
The  enemy  of  all  is  : 

Chorus  of  Ladies. 

In  a doleful  train 

Two  and  two  we  walk  all  day  : 

For  we  love  in  vain  ; 

None  so  sorrowful  as  they 
Who  can  only  sigh  and  say, 

Woe  is  me,  alackaday  ! 

Col.  This  is  all  very  well,  but  you  seem  to  forget  that  you  are  engaged 
to  us  ! 

Saph.  It  can  never  be.  You  are  not  Empyrean.  You  are  not  Della 
Cruscan.  You  are  not  even  Early  English.  Oh,  be  Early  English  ere  it  is 
too  late  ! ( Officers  look  at  each  other  in  astonishment.) 


INCONGRUITY. 


I41 

fane  ( Looking  at  uniforni).  Red  and  yellow  ! Primary  colors ! Oh, 
South  Kensington  ! 

Duke.  We  did  n’t  design  our  uniforms,  but  we  don’t  see  how  they  could 
be  improved. 

fane.  No,  you  would  n’t.  Still,  there  is  a cobwebby  gray  velvet,  with  a 
tender  bloom  like  cold  gravy,  which,  made  Florentine  fourteenth  century, 
trimmed  with  Venetian  leather  and  Spanish  altar-lace,  and  surmounted  with 
something  Japanese — it  matters  not  what — would  at  least  be  Earl}'  English  ! 
— Come,  maidens  1 (Exeunt  ladies , singing  refrain  of  “ In  a melancholy 
train.”) 

Duke.  Gentlemen,  this  is  an  insult  to  the  British  uniform 

Col.  A uniform  that  has  been  as  successful  in  the  courts  of  Venus  as  on 
the  field  of  Mars  ! 

Song — Colonel. 

When  I first  put  this  uniform  on, 

I said  as  I looked  in  the  glass  : 

“ It ’s  one  to  a million 
That  any  civilian 
My  figure  and  form  will  surpass. 

Gold  lace  has  a charm  for  the  fair, 

And  I ’ve  plenty  of  that  and  to  spare. 

While  a lover’s  professions, 

When  uttered  in  Hessians, 

Are  eloquent  everywhere.” 

A fact  that  I counted  upon 
When  I first  put  this  uniform  on  ! 

Chomis  of  Dragoons. 

By  a simple  coincidence  few 
Could  ever  have  reckoned  upon, 

The  same  thing  occurred  to  me  too 
When  I first  put  this  uniform  on  ! 

— Patience , i.  : Gilbert. 

The  necessity  of  the  methods  which  we  are  considering 
is  equally  apparent  in  music  too.  Every  one  feels  that 
there  are  essential  differences,  which  should  be  manifest 
throughout  all  the  parts  of  a composition,  separating  the 
effects  produced  upon  thought  by  a wedding-march,  a 


142 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


funeral  dirge,  a w altz,  and  a sonata.  But  if  this  fact  show 
the  influence  of  the  congruous,  a very  frequent  employ- 
ment of  contrasting  themes  shows,  as  well,  the  influence 
of  the  incongruous. 

Who  that  has  heard  the  earlier  composed  overture  of 
Wagner’s  “ Tannhauser  ” — and  the  same  question  would 
apply  to  the  whole  opera  which  this  overture  repre- 
sented and  epitomized — can  fail  to  recognize  either  how 
themes  thus  contrasted  may  add  to  the  interest,  or  how, 
by  the  way  in  which  they  complement  each  other,  they 
may  augment  the  comprehensiveness  of  the  result  ? In  this 
overture,  a slow  choral,  representative  of  the  religious 
element,  is  at  first  entirely  interrupted  by  wild  contrasting 
movements,  representing  the  surgings  of  the  passions ; 
then,  after  a little,  it  reappears  again,  gains  strength,  and 
finally  by  main  force  seems  to  crush  the  others  down,  and 
in  the  final  strain  entirely  to  dominate  them.  Here,  in 
the  blending  of  the  most  intensely  spiritual  and  material 
of  motives,  is  incongruity,  and  with  it  a comprehensiveness 
including  the  widest  extremes.  Yet  how  artistically  the 
like  features  are  grouped  with  like,  and  each  phase  of 
expression  made  to  complement  the  other  ; and  when  the 
two  clash,  how  principality  gets  the  better  of  what  would 
else  be  insubordinate,  and  reduces  all  to  order!  Incongru- 
ity in  such  cases  really  adds  to  the  general  effect  of  con- 
gruity,  because  it  suggests,  as  nothing  else  could,  the 
overwhelming  power  of  that  tendency  to  produce  a single 
effect  upon  thought,  which  finally  blends  the  whole  into 
a unity! 

Turning  now  to  effects  produced  in  the  arts  that  are 
seen,  it  is  probable  that  few  of  us  have  not  noticed  inour- 

1 Compare  what  is  said  here  with  the  arrangement  of  the  methods  on 

page  13 1. 


FIG.  43. -VILLAGE  DANCE.— TENIERS. 

See  pages  1 6,  82,  144,  igo. 


144 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


selves  a tendency  to  expect  to  find  in  them  certain  forms 
invariably  associated — forms,  too,  with  outlines  and  colors 
not  at  all  similar,  which  in  fact  may  belong  to  objects  as 
dissimilar  as  human  beings,  buildings,  trees,  plains,  hills, 
and  clouds.  A little  thought  will  reveal  that  we  expect 
to  find  these  forms  associated  because  we  have  become 
accustomed  to  think  of  them  as  associated  in  nature.  We 
know  that  in  the  world  they  go  together,  therefore  in  art 
they  seem  congruous.  Thus  Oriental  scenery  and  Moorish 
architecture,  Italian  scenery  and  Renaissance,  Northern 
French  and  Gothic,  are  congruous.  So  are  the  costumes 
or  attitudes  of  certain  figures  and  certain  places  or  periods. 
(See  GOome’s  “ Pollice  Verso,”  Fig.  26,  page  81.)  So  are 
certain  outlines  or  colors,  and  delineations  of  war,  of  peace, 
of  fright  (“  Death  of  Ananias,”  Fig.  94,  page  288),  of  sor- 
row (Rubens’s  “ Descent  from  the  Cross,”  Fig.  16,  page  73), 
and  of  merriment  (Teniers’s  “ Village  Dance,”  Fig.  43,  page 
143).  Sometimes  the  requirements  of  congruity,  while  evi- 
dently uppermost  in  the  mind  of  the  artist,  are  very  closely 
allied  to  those  of  repetition  and  consonance,  objects  though 
different  in  themselves  being  made  alike  by  being  given 
like  outlines  or  colors.  See  the  fragment  of  the  marble 
relief  from  the  theatre  of  Dionysius,  called  “The  Dancer,” 
Fig.  56,  page  183  ; also  “The  Storm”  by  Millet,  Fig.  44, 
page  145.  In  many  compositions  like  this  latter,  as  in  some 
of  Ruysdael’s  landscapes,  or  in  the  sculptured  group  of 
Niobe  and  her  children  in  the  Museum  degl’  Uffizi  at 
Florence,  Fig.  45,  page  146,  every  cloud,  wave,  leaf,  limb, 
or  shred  of  clothing  on  human  forms  may  indicate  the 
influence  of  the  pervading  fury  of  a tempest.  In  other 
compositions,  as  in  some  of  Claude  Lorraine’s,  the  light 
reflected  from  every  tree,  rock,  stream,  and  countenance, 
as  well  as  the  character  or  attitude  of  the  forms  which 


FIG.  44.— A STORM.  — MILLET, 


146 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART- FORM. 


it  illumines,  may  augment  the  general  effect  of  the  sun- 
shine that  pours  from  the  sky.  Notice  the  “Evening” 
of  Claude,  (Fig.  40,  page  1 19)  with  the  man  and  maid 
and  attendant  Cupid  in  the  foreground. 

The  results  of  congruity  are  evident  in  architecture  too. 
It  is  this  mainly  that  causes  most  builders  to  associate 
Doric  or  Ionic  pillars  or  pilasters  with  entablatures  and 


FIG.  45.— FROM  Q.iOUP  OF  NIOBE  AT  FLORENCE. 

See  pages  16,  144,  204,  257,  298. 


horizontal  openings,  or,  at  times,  with  the  round  Roman 
arch  ; while  the  slender  shafts  and  buttresses,  gargoyles 
and  other  ornaments  of  the  Gothic  style  are  used  with 
sharp  or  pointed  arches.  But  so  far  as  the  appearance  of 
forms  alone  is  concerned,  there  is  no  reason  why  certain 
features  of  the  Greek  style  should  not  accompany  certain 
of  the  Gothic.  To  use  them  together  would  not  violate  in 
the  least  the  fundamental  principle  of  art,  that  like  forms 


FIG.  46.— TRANSFIGURATION.— RAPHAEL. 
See  pages  72,  82,  116,  118,  148,  257. 


148 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


should  be  put  with  like.  At  the  same  time,  to  do  so  would 
cause  art  to  associate  features  that  have  come  to  be  clearly 
dissociated  in  the  mind.  For  this  reason,  it  is  possible 
that,  as  long  as  the  world  lasts,  no  artist  can  mix  them 
extensively  without  suggesting  to  some  an  amount  of 
incongruity  wholly  inconsistent  with  those  effects  of  unity 
invariably  present  in  arts  of  the  highest  character. 

The  reference  just  made  to  Wagner's  overture  to  “ Tann- 
hauser  ” suggests  mentioning  a painting  in  which  the  effects 
of  incongruity  and  comprehensiveness  noticed  as  char- 
acterizing the  overture,  are  almost  exactly  paralleled.  It 
is  Raphael’s  “ Transfiguration,”  Fig.  46,  page  147.  At  the 
top  of  this  picture,  supposed  to  represent  the  summit  of 
the  mount,  are  the  glorified  forms  of  Christ,  Moses,  and 
Elias,  prostrate  beneath  whom  are  the  apostles  present  at 
the  scene,  evidently  greatly  affected  by  it.  As  suits  the 
thought,  in  accordance  with  a principle  that  need  not  be 
now  explained,  almost  everything  in  this  half  of  the  com- 
position is  delineated  through  a use  of  curves.  At  the 
bottom  of  the  picture  are  others  of  the  apostles,  supposed 
to  be  at  the  foot  of  the  mount,  endeavoring  in  vain,  amid 
the  distress  and  consternation  of  the  spectators,  to  cast 
out  an  evil  spirit  from  a boy  whom  he  is  tormenting;  and 
here,  as  suits  the  thought  too,  there  is  a very  extensive 
use  of  straight  lines  and  angles.  The  composition  as 
a whole  has  been  justly  criticised  because  the  distance 
between  these  two  groups  is  too  slight,  the  mount  not 
being  represented  as  sufficiently  high.  But  this  fault  is 
not  essential  to  the  effect  that  we  are  now  considering,  of 
which  it  furnishes  an  excellent  example.  Few  can  fail  to 
recognize  the  antithetic  incongruity  both  of  thought  and 
form  between  the  two  parts  of  the  picture,  and,  together 
with  this,  the  grouping  of  like  with  like,  so  as  to  cause  the 


INCONGRUITY. 


I49 


one  to  complement  the  other.  Besides  this,  and  because  of 
it,  the  picture  is  comprehensive , as  would  not  otherwise  be 
possible,  of  the  entire  range  of  spiritual  power  on  earth, 
all  the  way  from  the  rapture  of  the  Christ  transfigured  by 
the  power  of  the  Deity  to  the  terror  of  the  boy  transfixed 
by  that  of  the  Devil. 

In  architecture  also  it  is  possible  to  have  a departure 
from  the  requirements  of  congruity  that  shall  enhance  the 
general  effect  by  increasing  that  of  comprehensiveness. 
This  is  true,  too,  as  applied  not  only  to  that  kind  of  con- 
gruity just  mentioned,  which  consists  in  an  adherence 
throughout  a building  to  the  traditional  forms  of  one  his- 
toric style  ; but  also  to  that  kind  which  is  founded  on  first 
principles.  Especially  is  this  so  with  reference  to  incon- 
gruity introduced  in  the  ways  that  will  be  explained  in 
Chapter  XVII.  in  connection  with  gradation.  As  there  in- 
dicated, a building  may  be  made  to  be  comprehensive  of 
almost  every  possible  style,  say  Greek  in  the  first  story, 
Norman  in  the  second,  and  Byzantine  in  the  third  ; and 
yet  the  effect  can  be  thoroughly  artistic,  manifesting 
almost  everything  demanded  by  the  requirements  of  order 
and  for  this  reason  of  unity. 


CHAPTER  X. 


CENTRAL-POINT,  SETTING,  PARALLELISM,  AND  SYMMETRY. 

Especial  Importance  of  Arrangement  in  the  Composition  of  features  alike 
by  Way  of  Congruity — Connection  between  this  Fact  and  the  Methods 
now  to  be  Considered — Difficulty  of  Determining  the  Term  Central- 
Point,  and  Objections  to  other  Terms — Appropriateness  of  this — Same 
Difficulties  and  Objections  to  Terms  for  the  Second  Method — Appro- 
priateness of  the  Term  Setting — Connections  between  Central-Point  and 
Principality,  and  Setting  and  Subordination — Parallelism — Symmetry 
and  its  Connection  with  the  Methods  Preceding  it — Recapitulation — 
How  Nature  Suggests  these  Methods  : the  Vanishing  Point  and  Radia- 
tion or  Central-Point — Laws  of  Linear  Perspective — Radiation  Allied  to 
Principality  and  Unity — Setting  in  Nature — Parallelism  in  Lines  of 
Horizon,  Rivers,  Hills,  Trees,  etc. — Manifestation  in  Individual  Forms 
of  Nature,  of  Central-Point,  Setting,  Parallelism,  and  Symmetry. 

"VX/'E  have  found  that  the  object  of  congruity  is  to 
produce  like  effects  upon  thought,  which  effects  are 
attained,  largely,  by  means  of  objects  in  themselves  unlike. 
It  is  in  these  circumstances,  particularly,  that  they  need 
to  be  made  to  seem  alike  by  methods  of  composition.  If, 
for  instance,  there  is  no  relationship  in  appearance  between 
a man,  a horse,  a dog,  a sheep,  a tree,  and  a bush,  all 
of  which,  nevertheless  have  to  be  brought  together,  it  is 
more  important  than  when  they  are  alike  by  way  of  repeti- 
tion or  consonance  that  a relationship  should  be  created 
between  them  by  the  way  in  which  they  are  arranged. 

In  accordance  with  this  conception,  the  methods  of 
composition,  to  be  next  considered  here,  because  the  most 

150 


CENTRA  L-POINT. 


151 

nearly  connected  with  congruity,  are  such  as  have  to  do 
with  dividing  up  the  time  and  space  occupied  by  congru- 
ous or  incongruous  features  in  ways  intended  to  produce 
effects  of  likeness,  in  spite  of  opposing  suggestions  in  the 
forms.  It  will  be  found,  for  instance,  that  by  distributing 
objects  of  sound  or  sight  on  lines,  real  or  ideal,  meeting 
at  a central-point , or,  in  some  regular  way,  upon  lines  which 
furnish  a setting  for  this,  all  the  features  of  a composition 
can  be  made  to  become,  in  almost  equal  degrees,  factors  of 
the  same  general  effect.  So,  by  adjustments  of  a com- 
position, a relationship  by  means  of  parallelism  may  be 
created,  say,  between  the  sound  of  a trumpet  or  a flute 
and  the  rattle  of  a drum,  or  between  the  body  of  a horse 
and  the  road  over  which  he  moves  ; or  between  the  forms  of 
bushes  and  of  the  robes  of  men,  although,  at  the  same  time, 
none  of  these  things,  when  compared,  are  sufficiently 
alike  in  themselves  to  be  grouped  distinctively  by  way  of 
repetition  or  consonance.  The  same  thing  is  true,  too,  of 
the  representation  of  the  balancing  of  the  outlines  or 
accents  of  many  different  features,  some  of  them  radi- 
cally different  in  essence,  which  we  find  in  symmetry. 
Artistic  arrangements  of  a composition,  therefore,  in- 
tended to  secure  effects  according  to  the  methods  that  we 
are  now  to  consider,  are  especially  important  when  like  is 
put  with  like  by  way  of  congruity. 

Before  we  go  on,  an  explanation  is  needed  of  the  terms 
to  be  employed  here.  It  has  been  difficult  to  decide  upon 
the  first  two  of  these.  Radiation,  ordinarily  used  for  a 
part,  at  least,  of  what  is  here  meant  b y central-point  is,  for 
the  purpose,  in  one  sense,  too  narrow,  and  in  another  too 
broad.  It  signifies  the  concentration  of  lines  at  one  cen- 
tre, or  of  light  at  one  focus  ; but  it  fails  to  apply,  except 
very  metaphorically,  to  the  concentration  of  words  or 


152 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


tones.  Besides  this,  it  signifies  rather  dispersion,  or  move- 
ment from  a centre,  than  concentration,  or  movement  to  it. 
We  might,  therefore,  use  the  term  concentration  ; but  this  is 
already  in  use,  and  often,  too,  in  order  to  designate  some- 
thing entirely  different — that  which  is  meant  by  massing. 

Convergence,  again,  is  a term  that  might  be  used.  But 
this — and  the  same  might  be  said  of  all  the  other  terms 
suggested — emphasizes  less  than  seems  desirable  the  pro- 
duction in  a composition  of  not  many  effects  of  this  kind, 
but  of  a single  effect.  For  such  reasons  a term  less  likely 
to  be  misunderstood,  and  at  the  same  time  inclusive  of  all 
that  is  intended,  seems  to  be  afforded  in  central-point. 

Point  is  a word  that  is  used  when  referring  both  to  sights 
and  sounds  ; and  central-point  includes  all  that  can  be 
signified  by  either  radiation,  concentration,  or  convergence, 
with  much  more  besides.  Moreover,  the  method  to  which 
it  is  to  be  applied,  as  may  be  seen  by  glancing  at  the 
scheme  on  page  1 3 1 , is  that  which  gives  principality  to 
effects  of  congruity ; in  other  words,  to  effects  produced 
upon  thought.  What  term  could  better  indicate  these? 
When  we  speak  of  the  point  of  a story  or  picture,  to  what 
do  we  refer  but  to  the  effect  upon  our  thoughts  produced 
by  the  way  in  which  the  ideas  that  are  illustrated  in  each  are 
brought  to  a centre  or  focus?  Let  us  use  this  term,  then, 
for  the  method  through  which  this  end  is  attained.  With 
all  due  acknowledgment,  too,  of  the  subordinate  import- 
ance in  general  of  mere  terminology,  here  seems  to  be  an 
exception  to  the  rule.  It  would  be  not  a slight  but  a great 
gain  for  art,  were  it  universally  recognized,  as  it  should  be, 
that  an  essential  condition  of  successful  arrangement  in  a 
composition,  is  to  bring  not  only  all  its  factors,  but  also, 
through  them,  all  the  thought  behind  its  factors  to  a point, 
and  this,  too,  a central-point. 


CENTRAL-POINT. 


153 


The  second  method  is,  in  itself,  easy  enough  to  under- 
stand. We  are  all  familiar  with  its  effects.  The  difficulty 
is  to  find  a term,  appropriate  for  it,  which  has  not  already 
so  many  other  uses  as  to  deprive  it  of  definite  applicability 
here.  As  central-point  implies  bringing  things  to  a centre, 
we  might  suppose  that  the  antithetic  condition  could  be 
expressed  by  circumference,  contour,  or  outline.  But  these 
words  are  too  limited  in  meaning ; and  although  terms  like 
relief,  surrounding,  environment,  digressiveness,  excur- 
siveness, embellishment,  circumstances  might  answer  the 
purpose,  they  already  have  meanings  which  make  them 
suggest  something  a little  different  from  that  for  which 
we  are  now  in  search. 

On  the  whole,  the  word  setting  seems  to  meet  the  re- 
quirements better  than  any  other.  Meaning  that  which 
encases  or  surrounds  an  object  of  chief  interest,  like  a gem, 
it  suggests  an  appropriate  antithesis  to  central-point ; and 
while  it  may  refer  to  outlines  constituting  a contour,  it  may 
refer  also  to  many  other  and  very  different  things  between 
the  contour  and  the  centre.  It  has,  therefore,  the  breadth 
of  meaning  that  is  desirable  in  a word  to  be  used  in  this 
connection.  Besides  this,  like  point , it  is  already  employed 
in  the  arts  both  of  sound  and  of  sight,  and  in  both  is  ap- 
plied to  relations  of  thought  as  well  as  of  form.  We  speak 
of  the  setting  of  a story  or  of  a melody,  meaning  its  ac- 
companiment, almost  as  frequently  as  of  that  of  a play  or 
a picture  ; and  this  setting  of  the  story — and  the  same 
analogy  holds  good  in  the  other  cases — may  mean  either 
the  thoughts  and  feelings  that  it  is  made  to  suggest,  the 
spiritual  atmosphere,  as  we  sometimes  call  it,  surrounding 
the  whole ; or  the  form  in  which  it  is  presented, — if  this 
be  of  verse,  the  form  of  verse  employed. 

Setting , moreover,  is  allied  to  subordination,  just  as 


154 


THE  GENESIS  OF  A RT-  FOR M. 


central-point  is  to  principality .'  As  a rule,  it  is  a principal 
consideration  that  appearances  should  have  a centre ; and 
at  this,  too,  is  usually  their  principal  feature.  The  setting  is 
a subordinate  consideration.  Many  objects  in  nature,  like 
smoke,  clouds,  and  distant  hills  and  mountains,  melt  into 
surrounding  objects  by  such  imperceptible  degrees  that,  at 
a little  distance  from  what,  as  related  to  our  point  of 
view,  is  their  centre,  they  become  indistinguishable;  but 
we  should  not  recognize  that  they  existed  at  all,  could  we 
not  perceive  the  latter. 

A line,  as  long  as  it  continues  equidistant  from  another 
line  having  the  same  direction  as  itself,  is  parallel  to  it. 
We  apply  the  term  chiefly  to  straight  lines;  but  it  need 
not  be  restricted  to  these.  Series  of  circles,  too,  described 
about  a common  centre  are  parallel.  Nor  need  the  term 
be  confined  even  to  lines.  As  will  be  shown  presently,  it 
has  been  used  for  centuries  to  signify  any  effects,  whether 
of  sight  or  sound,  that  are  analogous  to  those  of  lines  thus 
related. 

The  same  relation  that  central-point  sustains  to  princi- 
pality and  setting  to  subordination , parallelism  evidently 
sustains  to  complement , and,  in  case  the  parallelism  be  be- 
tween features  on  either  side  of  a common  middle  or  centre, 
to  balance l The  latter,  as  thus  produced,  needs  only  to  be 
developed,  and  it  becomes  symmetry l This  results  when 
either  curved  or  straight  outlines  describing  a figure  are 
so  disposed  that  if,  by  a straight  line  passing  perpendic- 
ularly through  its  middle,  it  be  divided  into  two  parts, these 
parts,  when  one  is  folded  over  the  other,  will  everywhere 
coincide.  Symmetry , therefore,  is  an  effect  produced  by  a 
figure  when  all  its  parts  on  one  side  of  a line  drawn  per- 

1 Compare  what  is  said  here  with  the  arrangement  of  methods  on 
page  131. 


SYMMETRY. 


155 


pendicularly  through  its  central-point  balance  those  on  the 
other  side  of  this  line.  In  other  words,  as  stated  in  Chapter 
III.,  the  method  involves  the  principle  of  complement  or  bal- 
ance made  applicable  not  to  a few  but  to  all  the  factors  of  a 
composition.  For  this  reason,  it  involves  also  the  con- 
templation of  figures  as  wholes  ; and,  in  connection  with 
this,  as  follows  naturally,  it  is  universally  acknowledged 
to  be  realized  in  perfection  in  the  degree  in  which  objects 
in  nature  or  art  possess,  like  living  creatures,  perfectly 
organized  forms.  Like  central-point , setting , and  parallels 
ism , the  term  symmetry , too,  is  applied  metaphorically  to 
effects  of  thought  as  well  as  of  form.  A conception  viewed 
only  as  such,  in  which  the  ideas  presented  are  perfectly 
organized  and  balanced  at  every  point,  for  this  reason  alone 
is  said  to  have  symmetry.  Notice,  however,  that,  when 
considered  as  an  effect  either  of  form  or  of  thought,  this 
kind  of  balance  of  all  the  factors  cannot  be  completely 
manifested  except  in  connection,  by  way  of  suggestion,  if 
no  more,  with  central-point,  setting,  and  parallelism , from  a 
combination  of  all  of  which,  therefore,  it  is  developed.  In 
fact,  as  the  necessity  for  these  arises  in  a comprehensive 
combination  of  the  congruous  and  incongruous,  symmetry, 
as  a method  of  organizing  form,  may  be  said  to  be  con- 
nected logically  with  them  also,  and  therefore  with  all  the 
six  methods  preceding  it  in  the  list  on  page  13 1. 

To  recapitulate,  central-point,  setting , parallelism,  and 
symmetry  may,  all  of  them,  as  primarily  used  with  refer- 
ence to  lines,  be  said  to  have  to  do  with  direction.  Lines 
extending  through  space  may  converge  at  a common 
point  or  centre,  and  thus  radiate ; or  they  may  be  de- 
scribed in  such  ways  as  to  form  a setting  for  the  centre  : 
or,  whether  doing  this  or  not,  they  may  coincide  in  their 
directions  and  be  parallel ; or  several  lines  may  do  all 


156 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART- FORM. 


these  things  in  a similar  way  as  related  to  the  same  centre 
or  central  line,  and  so  cause  a figure  to  have  symmetry. 

Now  let  us  consider,  for  a little,  certain  correspondences 
between  these  methods,  as  used  in  art,  and  the  methods 
in  which  different  objects  are  seen  to  be  arranged  in  na- 
ture, which,  in  this  as  in  every  regard,  is  the  teacher  of 
art.  Central-point , setting, parallelism,  and  symmetry  are  all 
illustrated,  almost  without  exception,  in  every  view  of  the 
world  about  us  that  the  eye  can  see.  It  is  scarcely  just, 
then,  to  term  them  “tricks”  of  composition,  as  is  some- 
times done  by  those  who  have  never  come  to  recognize 
the  connection  between  them  and  the  conditions  of 
nature.  Even  Corot,  who,  on  account  of  selecting  for 
representation  certain  effects  of  color  not  unnatural  but  not 
previously  studied,  is  supposed  to  have  been  especially 
free  from  slavery  to  established  methods  of  composition, 
did  not  disregard  those  that  we  are  now  considering.  No 
effects  of  radiation  and  parallelism  as  produced  by  Claude 
(see  Fig.  40,  page  119),  or  Turner  (see  Fig.  51,  page  175), 
could  be  more  marked  than  the  same  as  produced  by 
Corot  in  Fig.  47,  page  157,  or  even  in  Fig.  73,  page  223. 

But  to  be  more  specific,  central-point , as  used  in  art,  is 
merely  a development — sometimes,  as  is  the  case  with 
many  effects  in  art,  an  excessive  development — of  the  nat- 
ural fact  that  an  object  in  the  extreme  distance  is  always 
related  to  an  object  nearer  us  in  such  a way  that,  if  there 
were  parallel  lines  drawn  between  the  two,  and  extended 
far  enough  into  space,  such  lines  would  meet  in  the  dis- 
tance and  form  a point.  For  instance,  to  one  looking 
down  a long  street,  or  the  tracks  of  a railway,  the  lines 
formed  by  the  sidewalks  and  foundations  and  roofs  of  the 
houses,  if  they  be  of  equal  height,  or  of  the  two  or  more 
tracks  of  the  railway,  all  converge  in  the  distance,  and, 


FIQ.  47.-  THE  CANAL. -COROT. 


153 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


though  not  actually  meeting,  suggest  that  they  would 
meet,  could  a man  see  far  enough.  The  point  where, 
if  extended,  they  would  meet,  is  what  the  painter  calls 
the  vanishing  point,  and  if  he  wishes  to  be  mathemat- 
ically exact  in  determining  the  sizes  of  his  figures  as  rep- 
resented at  a certain  distance,  he  will  do  so  by  drawing 
converging  lines  from  the  top,  bottom,  and  sides  of  a 
like  figure  in  the  foreground,  and  making  these,  where  they 
cross  the  place  in  which  the  figure  is  to  be  represented, 
measure  the  height  and  breadth.  (See  the  trees  in  Fig. 
47,  page  157.) 

I his  principle,  as  applied  to  art,  is  the  basis  of  the  laws 
of  linear  perspective.  When  carried  out  in  a painting  it 
makes  all  the  objects  represented  appear  to  sustain  the 
same  relations  to  one  another  as  in  nature.  Besides  this, 
moreover — -and  here  is  the  connection  of  the  principle  with 
our  present  subject — it  can  make  all  these  objects  sus- 
tain subordinate  relations  to  one  object  of  interest  which, 
being  in  front  of  the  vanishing  point  from  which  all  the 
lines  ideally  radiate,  necessarily  suggests  that  everything  is 
pointing  toward  it ; and  that  it  therefore  was  the  principal 
object  of  consideration  in  the  mind  of  him  who  produced 
the  picture — the  object  at  which,  when  painting,  he  was 
directly  looking  (see  Fig.  50,  page  173.)  Thus  we  see 
how  central-point,  as  indicated  by  radiation,  augments  the 
effect  of  principality. 

But  besides  having  a point  which  is  a centre  of  radia- 
tion, and  therefore  of  principal  importance,  all  views  in 
nature  have  that  which  augments  the  effect  of  subordi- 
nation. It  is  found  in  the  outlines  which  form  the 
setting  of  this  centre,  outlines  often  dim  and  vague  be- 
cause of  their  distance  in  the  background,  but  by  which 
it  is  made  clear,  at  least,  that  the  range  of  vision,  as  well 


RADIATION  AND  OUTLINE  IN  NATURE. 


159 


as  the  lines  of  radiation,  are  brought  to  an  end.  It  is  in- 
teresting  to  notice,  too,  that  the  extreme  limits  of  these 
outlines,  as  in  those  of  the  horizon  and  zenith  not  only, 
but  also  in  the  contour  of  any  field  of  vision  that  can  be 
comprehended  in  a single  glance  of  the  eye,  are  necessa- 
rily circular.  This  furnishes  an  additional  reason  for  the 
use  of  the  arched,  or  semi-arched,  or  oval  contour,  no- 
ticed on  page  1 1 5 , as  so  frequently  suggested  by  the 
arrangements  of  figures  in  groups. 

Once  more,  in  addition  to  having  a vanishing  point 
which  is  a centre  of  radiation,  and  outlines  that  give  this 
a setting , every  view  of  nature  has  a horizon  line,  and  with 
this  usually  a large  number  of  Vines  parallel  to  it,  described, 
if  in  a sea  view,  by  the  caps  of  the  waves  ; if  in  a land 
view,  by  the  bank-lines  of  rivers,  by  the  tops  of  forests,  by 
the  ridges  of  hills,  or  by  the  snow-lines  of  mountains. 
Besides  this,  moreover,  the  view  necessarily  includes  par- 
allel upright  directions  taken  by  the  trunks  of  trees  and 
plants,  not  to  speak  of  the  necessary  parallelism  wherever 
stand  human  beings,  or  their  buildings.  See  Figs.  47, 
page  157,  51,  page  175,  and  66,  page  203. 

Besides  being  exemplified  in  the  arrangements,  as 
related  to  one  another,  of  all  the  forms  made  visible  in  a 
whole  field  of  vision,  the  same  methods,  augmented 
usually,  in  this  case,  by  those  of  symmetry,  are  exempli- 
fied in  the  arrangements  by  which  the  features  of  every 
single  form  are  related.  Whether  we  study  the  veinings 
of  a leaf,  or  the  branches  of  a tree,  the  adjustment  of  the 
nerves,  veins,  or  muscles  of  any  living  creature,  or  of  the 
hands,  feet,  and  limbs  of  a man,  we  find  in  all  a tendency 
toward  radiation.  Sometimes  the  limbs  on  each  side  of 
a tree  diverge  from  a point  in  its  trunk;  sometimes, 
apparently,  from  a point  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  tree 


i6o 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


from  that  on  which  they  are  situated.  As  Ruskin  says 
in  his  “ Elements  of  Drawing,”  Letter  III.,  from  which 
this  Fig.  48  is  taken,  there  are  any  number  of  places 
where  ideally  the  centres  of  radiation  may  be  ; but  that 
they  are  somewhere,  the  slightest  examination  will  usually 
reveal.  To  such  an  extent  at  least  is  this  true,  that  no 
one  can  question  the  statement  that  the  limbs  of  almost 
all  plants  and  animals,  each  in  a way  peculiar  to  itself, 
have  a tendency  to  radiate  from  the  body  to  which  they 
belong.  This  is  a fact  of  nature  to  which  we  have  become 
accustomed.  Notice  now  that,  as  a result  of  this  fact, 


FIQ.  48.— RADIATION  IN  NATURAL  FORMS. 

the  mind,  whenever  it  perceives  any  features,  and  not 
only  so,  but  any  objects  whatever,  arranged  on  lines 
radiating  thus,  is  prompted  to  infer,  in  fulfilment  of  the 
law  of  association,  that  they  are  connected  both  with  one 
another  and  with  the  object  seen  where  the  lines  of 
radiation  converge.  Accordingly  the  use  of  these  lines 
enhances  the  effect  not  only  of  principality , as  already 
indicated,  but  also  of  organic  form  and  unity. 

The  same  general  principle  applies  to  setting,  parallel- 
ism, and  symmetry.  We  use  them  to  secure  unity  in  an 
art-product,  because  we  have  become  familiar  with  them 
in  connection  with  the  same  effect  in  a product  of  nature. 


RADIATION  AND  OUTLINE  IN  NATURE.  l6l 


In  a leaf  or  limb,  for  instance,  whatever  lines  radiating 
from  a centre  it  contains  are  usually  ended  by  a setting 
of  other  lines  described  about  this,  and  necessarily  so  by 
the  lines  of  contour,  which  alone,  as  a rule,  enable  us  to 
recognize  that  the  object  described  by  them  is  a single 
object.  Scarcely  less  common  than  either  of  these 
methods,  and  often  very  closely  related  to  both,  is  par- 
allelism. In  some  trees, 
branches  that  begin  by 
radiating  become  parallel 
soon,  and  continue  so  to 
their  ends.  In  others,  as 
in  pines,  parallelism  seems 
to  take  the  place  of  radi- 
ation altogether ; and  al- 
though radiation  has  been 
said  to  be  exemplified  in 
the  arrangements  of  the 
nerves  and  muscles  in  the 
bodies  of  men  and  animals, 
nevertheless  the  arms,  legs, 
fingers,  toes,  claws,  as  well 
as  the  two  limiting  sides 
of  these  separate  members, 
and  of  the  body  as  a whole, 
furnish  examples  of  parallelism.  As  a rule,  too,  the  way 
in  which  all  the  features  on  either  side  of  a common 
middle,  whether  in  the  trunk  of  an  animate  or  inanimate 
object,  balance  one  another,  illustrates  symmetry. 

No  people,  perhaps,  apply  the  methods  treated  in  this 
chapter  more  artistically  than  the  Japanese,  though  often 
represented  as  ignoring  them.  Notice  proofs  of  this  in 
all  four  compositions  in  Fig.  49,  reduced  from  “ Fine  Art 
Pictures,”  a Tokyo  publication,  by  Katsugaro  Yenouge. 


FIG.  49.— JAPANESE  COMPOSITIONS. 

See  pages  46,  161. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


ILLUSTRATIONS  OF  CENTRAL-POINT,  SETTING,  PARAL- 
LELISM, AND  SYMMETRY. 

Introduction — Poetic  Central-Point  in  the  Climax — Setting  in  the  Digres- 
sion— Illustrations — Parallelism  in  Metaphors  and  Similes — In  what 
is  Termed  Parallelism — And  in  Lines  of  Verse — Poetic  Symmetry 
with  Illustrations — All  three  Methods  in  Poetic  Form — Plow  Mani- 
fested— Central-Point  and  Setting  in  Music — Parallelism  and  Mu- 
sical Harmony  : Illustrations — Symmetry — Connection  between  Lines 
Radiating  from  a Central  Point  and  the  Appearance  of  Unity 
and  Principality  in  Visible  Objects — Illustrations  from  Paintings — 
Curved  Lines  of  Radiation — Lines  of  Direction  in  Architecture — The 
Nature  of  Setting  in  the  Arts  that  are  Seen — Parallelism  and  its 
Connection  with  Order — Illustrations  from  Painting  and  Sculpture — ■ 
How  it  Gives  Unity  to  Forms  Associated  by  Way  of  Congruity — Sym- 
metry : its  Present  Different  from  its  Former  Meaning — Symmetrical 
Paintings — Symmetry,  an  Application  of  the  Principle  of  Complement 
to  all  the  Features  of  the  Two  Sides  of  a Composition — Connection 
between  Symmetry  and  Organic  Form — Some  Variety  not  Inconsistent 
with  Symmetry. 

'"T^HE  methods  considered  in  the  tenth  chapter  cannot 
A be  fully  understood  except  as  we  perceive  how 
composition  in  each  art  is  influenced  by  them.  Thus  far 
they  have  been  treated  as  if  they  had  to  do  only,  or,  at 
least,  mainly,  with  effects  that  are  visible.  This  was 
unavoidable.  Primarily,  such  is  the  case ; and  in  a gen- 
eral explanation  of  the  methods  it  was  necessary  to  begin 
where  they  begin.  But  just  as  consonance  and  dissonance , 
which  have  a primary  applicability  to  the  relations  of 

II 

1.6?, 


ILLUSTRATIONS  OF  CENTRAL-POINT . 1 63 


sound,  are  used  for  those  of  sight,  so  these,  in  which  the 
conditions  are  reversed,  are  used  for  those  of  sound. 

Turning  first  to  poetry,  the  reader  will  recall  that 
almost  every  great  drama  or  epic  contains  passages  in 
which  the  different  incidents  illustrating  the  general  plot 
are  made  to  converge  and  form  what  is  called  the  climax ; 
as,  for  instance,  in  the  fifth  acts  of  “ Othello  ” or  “ Ham- 
let ” ; or  in  “Macbeth,”  where,  just  after  the  announce- 
ment of  the  death  of  Lady  Macbeth,  the  revelation  comes 
to  her  husband  that  the  prophecies  in  which  he  has 
trusted,  such  as 

All  hail,  Macbeth,  hail  to  thee,  thane  of  Glamis. 

— Macbeth , i.,  3 : Shakespeare. 

All  hail,  Macbeth,  hail  to  thee,  thane  of  Cawdor. 

— Idem. 

All  hail,  Macbeth,  that  shalt  be  king  hereafter. 

— Idem. 


and 


Be  bloody,  bold,  and  resolute  ; laugh  to  scorn 
The  power  of  man. 

— Idem,  iv.,  I. 


Macbeth  shall  never  vanquished  be  until 
Great  Birnam  wood  to  high  Dunsinane  hill 
Shall  come  against  him. 

— Idem , iv. , I. 


can  all  be  fulfilled,  and  yet  he  can  die  by  the  hand  of 
him  concerning  whom  he  has  also  heard  the  warning, 


Macbeth,  Macbeth,  Macbeth,  beware  Macduff. 

— Idem. 


It  is  impossible  for  him  to  draw  any  other  inference 
after  hearing  the  words  of  the  frightened  messenger  who 


164 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART- FORM. 


has  seen  Macduff’s  army  approaching  Dunsinane  Castle, 
hidden  behind  boughs  which  they  carry,  taken  from  the 
woods  of  Birnam : 


Messenger.  Gracious,  my  lord, 

I shall  report  that  which  I say  I saw, 

But  know  not  how  to  do  it. 

Macbeth.  Well,  say,  sir. 

Mess.  As  I did  stand  my  watch  upon  the  hill, 

I looked  toward  Birnam,  and,  anon,  methought 
The  wood  began  to  move. 

Macb.  Liar  and  slave. 

Mess.  Let  me  endure  your  wrath,  if ’t  be  not  so  ; 

Within  this  three  mile  you  may  see  it  coming  ; 

I say  a moving  grove. 

— Idem , v.,  5. 


In  nothing  is  the  skill  of  a great  literary  artist  made  so 
manifest  as  through  the  effects  he  produces  by  causing 
all  the  materials  at  his  disposal  to  converge  thus  at  a 
central  point.  Notice,  too,  that,  in  every  such  case,  long 
before  the  separate  threads  of  the  story  are  finally  brought 
together,  all  through  the  composition,  these  effects  are 
presented  in  such  a way  as  to  prepare  the  mind  for  that 
to  which,  for  this  reason,  they  may  be  said  to  point.  It 
is  hardly  necessary  to  add  now  that  these  details  together 
constitute  what  every  one  recognizes  to  be  a part  of  the 
setting , another  word  for  what  is  familiarly  known  as 
elaboration,  forming,  if  it  be  extended  to  a connected 
series  of  events,  a digression.  In  a well  arranged  compo- 
sition, passages  containing  material  of  this  kind  are  always 
kept  subordinate  to  the  principal  conception,  being  made, 
as  it  were,  to  circle  around  this  in  such  a way  as  to  reveal 
clearly  the  relationship  between  them  and  it.  The  open- 
ing lines  of  each  of  the  following  sonnets,  for  instance, 


ILLUSTRATIONS  OF  SETTING. 


165 

have  to  do  with  the  setting ; and  yet  they  all  have  a 
direct  bearing  in  unfolding  that  which,  in  the  closing  line 
of  each,  or,  at  most,  two  lines,  gives  point  to  the  whole : 


A rose  as  fair  as  ever  saw  the  North, 

Grew  in  a little  garden  all  alone  : 

A sweeter  flower  did  nature  ne’er  put  forth, 

Nor  fairer  garden  yet  was  ever  known. 

The  maidens  danced  about  it  morn  and  noon, 

And  learned  bards  of  it  their  ditties  made  ; 

The  nimble  fairies  by  the  pale-faced  moon 
Watered  the  root  and  kissed  her  pretty  shade. 

But,  well-a-day  ! the  gardener  careless  grew, 

The  maids  and  fairies  both  were  kept  away, 

And  in  a drought  the  caterpillars  threw 
Themselves  upon  the  bud  and  every  spray. 

God  shield  the  stock  ! If  heaven  send  no  supplies, 

The  fairest  blossom  in  the  garden  dies. 

— Sonnet : IViltiam  Browne. 


Could  I but  grasp  the  vision,  make  it  mine — - 
In  one  full  masterly  embrace  possess 
The  splendor  of  my  dream,  its  joy  enshrine, 

And  hold  it  as  some  trophy-crown,  to  bless 
With  perfect  calm  and  peace  the  conquest  won  ; 

Or  could  I clear  the  mist,  and  fairly'’  face 
The  high  beatitudes  of  radiant  morn, 

That  reach  through  infinite  degrees  of  space  ; 

What  then — ah,  what  ? The  heart  would  sigh  for  more  ; 

The  longings  of  a great  unrest  would  send 
Swift-winged  messengers  far  on  before  ; 

Such  glory  undefined  could  only  lend 
A depth  to  height,  a sadness  to  desire, — 

A voice  forever  calling  : “ Come  up  higher.” 

— Infinito  : Stephen  H.  Thayer. 

When  I consider  how  my  light  is  spent 

Ere  half  my  days,  in  this  dark  world  and  wide, 

And  that  one  talent  which  is  death  to  hide, 

Lodged  with  me  useless  though  my  soul  more  bent 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


1 66 


To  serve  therewith  my  Maker,  and  present 
My  true  account,  lest  he,  returning,  chide  ; 

“ Doth  God  exact  day-labor,  light  denied?” 

I fondly  ask.  But  Patience  to  prevent 
That  murmur  soon  replies  : “ God  doth  not  need 

Either  man’s  work  or  his  own  gifts.  Who  best 
Bear  his  mild  yoke,  they  serve  him  best.  His  state 
Is  kingly.  Thousands  at  his  bidding,  speed 
And  post  o’er  land  and  ocean  without  rest ; — 

They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait. 

— Sonnet  on  his  Blindness  : Milton. 

Parallelism  means  the  arrangement  of  objects  on  lines 
equally  distant  from  one  another  throughout  their  whole 
extent,  or— what  is  the  same  thing — moving  in  the  same 
direction  or  on  the  same  plane.  What  is  this  in  principle 
but  the  expressing  of  the  same  tendency  of  thought  in 
different  forms,  such  as  we  always  find  in  the  poetic 
metaphor  or  simile  ? When  we  compare  human  life  to  a 
river,  or  the  growth  of  a man  to  that  of  a tree,  what 
do  we  do  but  illustrate  one  set  of  ideas  by  referring 
to  a second  set  that  move  along  on  a plane  parallel  to 
the  first  ? 

But  the  correspondence  in  poetry  to  visible  parallelism 
does  not  pertain  entirely  to  the  thought.  Certain  forms 
of  verse,  and  these  among  the  earliest,  like  those  of  the 
Hebrews,  have  long  been  designated  by  this  very  term. 
The  reason  of  this  is  that  the  verse  to  which  it  is  applied  is 
made  up  of  a series  of  statements,  two  of  which,  at  least, 
and  sometimes  more,  are  parallel,  and  this  both  in  thought 
and  in  style.  Here  is  what  is  usually  considered  the  most 
ancient  extant  verse  illustrating  this  kind  of  parallelism. 

I have  slain  a man  to  my  wounding, 

And  a young  man  to  my  hurt. 


— Genesis  iv.,  23. 


ILLUSTRATIONS  OF  SYMMETRY.  1 67 

And  the  whole  book  of  the  Psalms  is  characterized 
by  it. 

Thy  fierce  wrath  goeth  over  me  ; 

Thy  terrors  have  cut  me  off. 

They  came  round  about  me  daily  like  watei 
They  compassed  me  about  together. 

Lover  and  friend  hast  thou  put  far  from  me. 

And  mine  acquaintance  into  darkness. 

— Psalm  lxxxviii. , t6,  17,  18, 

It  was  this  method  of  expressing  the  same  thought  in 
two  or  three  different  forms,  all  of  similar  length,  that 
eventually  led  to  versification,  the  sounds  of  the  lines  of 
which,  as  we  hear  them  read,  one  after  the  other,  produce 
an  effect  of  parallelism  upon  the  ear  no  less  marked  than 
the  arrangement  of  them  in  printed  lines  does  upon  the  eye. 

Symmetry  in  poetry  is  an  effect  of  organism  such  as  is 
almost  inseparable  from  a combination  of  central-point , 
setting,  and  parallelism ; and  is  always  attendant  upon 
them  when  all  the  factors  to  which  they  are  applied  are 
arranged  with  due  regard  for  balance.  The  following  two 
short  poems  will  sufficiently  illustrate  this  effect,  and  at 
the  same  time  show,  in  concrete  form,  the  influence  of 
the  other  methods.  In  both  poems,  as  in  the  sonnets  just 
quoted,  the  thought  centres  in  the  last  line,  all  the  setting 
surrounding  this,  and  attaining  full  significance  in  con- 
nection with  it.  Often,  too,  the  lines  of  similar  length,  by 
containing  expressions  of  similar  import,  give  us  parallel- 
ism ; and  the  balanced  combination,  manifested  through- 
out the  whole,  results  in  symmetry. 

Here  is  one  leaf  reserved  for  me 
From  all  thy  sweet  memorials  free  ; 

And  here  my  single  song  might  tell 
The  feelings  thou  must  guess  so  well. 

But  could  I thus  within  thy  mind 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


1 68 


One  little  vacant  corner  find 
Where  no  impression  yet  is  seen, 

Where  no  memorial  yet  has  been, 

Oh,  it  should  be  my  sweetest  care 
To  write  my  name  for  ever  there  ! 

— Verses  Written  in  an  Album  : Th.  Moore. 

Because  I breathe  not  love  to  every  one. 

Nor  do  not  use  set  colors  for  to  wear, 

Nor  nourish  special  locks  of  vowed  hair, 

Nor  give  each  speech  a full  point  of  a groan, — 

The  courtly  nymphs,  acquainted  with  the  moan 

Of  them  who  on  their  lips  Love’s  standard  bear, 

“ What  ! he?”  say  they  of  me  ; “ now  I dare  swear 
He  cannot  love  No,  no  ! let  him  alone.” 

And  think  so  still — if  Stella  know  my  mind. 

Profess,  indeed,  I do  not  Cupid’s  art  ; 

But  you,  fair  maids,  at  length  this  true  shall  find  — 

That  his  right  badge  is  but  worn  in  the  heart. 

Dumb  swains,  not  clattering  pies,  do  lovers  prove, — 
They  love  indeed  who  quake  to  say  they  love. 

— Love' s Silence  : Sir  Ph.  Sydney. 

Hitherto, central-point,  setting, parallelism,  and  symmetry , 
as  illustrated  in  poetry,  have  been  very  closely  assimilated 
to  methods  of  thought.  There  is  a sense  in  which,  in  every 
art,  this  treatment  of  them  is  inevitable.  As  indicated  a 
moment  ago,  to  secure  unity  in  connection  with  an  effect 
upon  thought,  or  congruity,  is  always  their  most  important 
function.  Moreover,  there  is  a peculiar  sense  in  which 
this  treatment  is  necessitated  in  poetry.  The  factors  of 
its  forms  are  words,  and  words  and  thoughts  are  virtually 
inseparable.  At  the  same  time,  they  are  not  entirely  so. 
Words  are  also  forms  of  sound  ; and  before  we  pass  on,  it 
ought  to  be  shown  how  the  arrangements  of  them,  consid- 
ered as  expressions  of  thought,  are  represented,  and  their 
effects  enhanced,  by  means  of  corresponding  arrangements 


ILLUSTRATIONS  OF  SYMMETRY.  1 69 

of  them  considered  as  sounds.  To  do  this,  moreover,  will 
merely  carry  out  the  analogy  of  what  has  been  done 
already  when  treating  of  these  methods  as  applied  to  vis- 
ible appearances.  It  was  then  shown  that  central-point , 
setting,  parallelism,  and  symmetry  are  illustrated  not 
only  in  the  arrangements  of  a general  view  of  nature,  but 
of  the  features  of  each  specific  object  constituting  a part 
of  this  view.  We  have  so  far  considered  the  application 
of  the  methods  to  a poetic  work  considered  as  a whole. 
We  have  now  to  consider  them  as  applied  to  separate 
features  of  this  whole. 

In  what  sense,  then,  can  it  be  said  that  each  of  the 
methods  under  discussion  can  be  fulfilled  in  forms  of 
sound  as  they  are  heard  constituting  the  separate  parts  of 
a composition  ? Let  us  answer  this  question,  first,  as 
regards  central-point.  Is  there  anything  in  a series  of 
sounds  that  may  be  said  to  point  ? Certainly — the  accents. 
These  have  the  same  influence  upon  an  order  of  effects 
heard  in  succession,  as  do  concentrating  lines  upon  an 
order  of  effects  seen  simultaneously.  The  accents  are  like 
so  many  radiating  lines  that,  one  after  another,  keep 
directing  attention  to  the  movement — in  other  words, 
pointing  to  it.  The  unaccented  sounds,  again,  that  connect 
the  accented,  determining  as  they  do,  and  as  the  accents 
do  not,  the  particular  rhythm  or  metre,  whether  double  or 
triple,  may  be  said  to  furnish  the  form-setting ; while  the 
series  of  lines  of  verse,  called  by  the  same  name  in  this 
case,  correspond  exactly,  as  was  said  a moment  ago,  to 
the  series  of  lines  that  produce  parallelism  in  the  arts  of 
sight.  The  resulting  organic-form  of  the  movement,  as 
secured  in  the  general  balance  throughout  of  foot  and  line, 
measures  the  degree  of  symmetry.  These  analogies  are  so 
evident  that  they  need  only  to  be  stated. 


170 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


Let  us  pass  on  now  to  music.  As  all  will  recognize, 
there  is  a sense  in  which  every  musical  composition  has  its 
central-point  of  interest  or  climax  ; and  there  is  a sense,  too, 
in  which  this  is  accompanied  by  a setting , consisting  of 
movements  elaborated,  as  it  were,  independently.  In 
longer  compositions  (see  the  theme  of  Beethoven’s  “ Sym- 
phony No.  5,  in  C Minor,”  printed  on  page  61),  everything 
is  centred  in  the  fundamental  melody,  from  which  the  whole 
is  developed.  Shorter  works  often  have  their  centre  in  the 
key-note  or  the  tonic  chord  of  the  principal  key.  At  every 
critical  change  of  the  composition,  and  almost  invariably 
at  its  close,  the  ear  requires  a suggestion  of  this  theme  or 
key,  and,  in  the  return  to  it,  in  connection  with  the  vari- 
ous digressions,  or,  as  we  may  term  them,  excursions  from 
it,  we  have  conditions  analogous,  as  nearly  as  anything 
that  is  heard  can  be,  to  effects  produced  by  central-point 
and  setting  as  used  in  the  arts  that  are  seen.  Often, 
indeed,  in  music,  both  results  are  attained  as  in  these 
latter  arts,  at  one  and  the  same  time,  and  thus  too,  like 
them,  are  capable  of  being  represented  visibly.  Notice 
once  more  upon  page  60,  the  music  taken  from  the  varia- 
tions upon  “Old  Black  Joe.” 

Parallelism  in  music  is  shown  not  only  in  successions  of 
phrases  of  similar  movement,  corresponding  to  succes- 
sions in  poetry  of  lines  of  similar  metre  and  length,  but 
also  and  mainly  in  the  whole  constitution  of  harmony. 
As  every  one  acquainted  with  the  history  of  music  knows, 
harmony  began  with  an  endeavor  to  sing,  at  the  same 
time,  two  or  more  different  melodies,  the  tunes  of  which 
were  found,  or  made,  to  be  parallel.  In  modern  harmo- 
nies, as  a rule,  there  is  a distinct  melody  in  only  one  of  the 
parts,  but  there  is  still  a sense  in  which  the  other  tones 
making  up  the  chords  accompanying  this,  move  along  on 


THESE  METHODS  IN  MUSIC. 


I/1 


planes  parallel  to  the  melody.  The  following,  in  a small 
way,  illustrates  all  these  statements  ; and,  like  the  music 
on  page  60,  it  also  does  this  to  the  eye  almost  as  effec- 
tively as  to  the  ear. 

The  portion  marked  A illustrates  unison,  characterized 
by  an  absence  of  harmony ; that  marked  B illustrates 
parallelism  ; at  C counteracting  phrases  give  a setting  to 
the  movements  ; and  at  D they  are  drawn  together  and 
made  to  centre  in  the  chord  of  the  keynote. 


Symmetry  in  music,  as  in  poetry,  is  a result  of  the  gen- 
eral effect  of  all  these  other  methods  when  arranged  with 
due  regard  for  balance.  This  is  true,  whether  applied  to  a 
composition  as  a whole,  or  to  parts  of  it.  Accent,  lack  of 
accent,  complement,  and  balance  of  phrase  and  period, — 
these  respectively  give  unity  of  character  to  each  specific 
movement,  however  long  or  short,  in  a way  exactly 
analogous  to  that  which  is  exemplified  in  the  general 
movement. 

The  explanation  of  these  methods  as  applied  in  the  field 
of  sight  was  necessarily  involved  in  what  was  said  of  them 


172 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


in  Chapter  X.  We  noticed  there  their  origin  in  nature.  It 
needs  to  be  said  now  that  the  artist  uses  them — not  slav- 
ishly, merely  imitating  arrangements  which  he  actually 
sees  in  the  world  about  him— but  intelligently,  applying 
the  principles  illustrated  in  one  place  to  the  arrangement 
of  factors  which,  as  observed  in  another  place,  do  not 
manifest  them.  Such  a course  is  frequently  the  only  one 
enabling  him  to  form  an  organized  whole  out  of  material 
which,  as  found  in  nature,  is  disorganized.  He  has  noticed 
the  effects  of  radiation,  for  instance ; so,  instead  of  grouping 
objects  at  hap-hazard,  or  just  as  he  sees  them,  he  rearranges 
them  in  such  ways  that  their  outlines  point  toward  a prin- 
cipal feature  and  also  to  a common  centre , thus  securing 
at  the  same  time  the  effects  of  principality  and  of  unity. 

To  illustrate  this,  the  adaptation  of  the  methods  of  radi- 
ation in  strict  accordance  with  appearances  in  the  external 
world,  may  be  noticed  in  the  way  in  which  in  Troyon’s 
“Cattle”  (Fig.  50,  page  173),  the  ruts,  faintly  indicating 
a road  in  the  foreground,  are  made  to  carry  the  eye  back- 
ward and  concentrate  attention  upon  the  centre  of  the  pic- 
ture occupied  by  the  approaching  herd.  More  artistically, 
but  in  just  as  strict  accordance  with  natural  appearances, 
in  Turner’s  “Decline  of  Carthage”  (Fig.  51,  page  175), 
Corot’s  “ Canal  ” (Fig.  47,  page  157),  and  “ Landscape  with 
Water”  (Fig.  73>  page  223),  and  in  Claude’s  “ Evening” 
(Fig.  40,  page  1 19),  the  chief  lines,  both  of  contour  and  of 
light,  are  made  to  converge  in  the  extreme  background, 
and  cross  and  continue  themselves  in  the  radiating  lines 
of  each  picture’s  opposite  side.  A different  adaptation 
of  the  same  method,  may  be  seen  in  Gerome’s  “ Pollice 
Verso  ” (Fig.  26,  page  81).  In  the  centre  of  this,  a glad- 
iator stands  with  his  heel  on  the  neck  of  a prostrate  an- 
tagonist, and  looks  up  for  a signal  to  save  the  life  which 


THESE  METHODS  IN  PAINTING. 


173 


is  at  his  mercy.  With  scarcely  an  exception,  the  crowd 
of  spectators,  who  fill  an  amphitheatre  above,  answer  this 
appeal  by  stretching  a hand  towards  the  gladiator, 
with  the  thumb  downward,  indicating  thus  their  desire 
to  have  him  show  no  mercy  to  his  fallen  antagonist.  Of 
course,  all  the  extended  arms,  by  pointing  as  they  do, 
direct  attention  to  the  gladiator  as  the  principal  object  of 


FIQ.  50.— CATTLE— C.  TROYON. 

See  pages  16,  158,  172. 

interest,  and  also  make  of  the  whole  picture  a unity  both 
in  thought  and  form.  But,  in  addition  to  this,  the  hori- 
zontal outlines  in  the  front  walls  of  the  amphitheatre, 
which  concentrate  according  to  the  laws  of  the  perspective, 
also  the  outlines  of  a pillar  of  the  amphitheatre  and  of 
one  prominent  division  between  its  benches,  as  well,  too, 
as  the  outlines  of  a form  and  the  shadow  of  a gladiator 


174 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


already  slain  and  lying  on  the  ground, — all  these  are 
given  such  directions  that  they  too  point  toward  the 
principal  figure.  The  same  method  is  exemplified  again 
in  Becker’s  “ Othello  ” (Fig.  55,  page  181),  where  the 
lines  formed  by  a rug  on  the  floor,  by  the  railing  of  a porch, 
by  a wall,  and  by  the  general  directions  indicated  in  the 
tops  of  buildings  seen  at  a distance,  all  point  toward  the 
object  of  Othello’s  love,  Desdemona. 

A peculiar  phase  of  this  effect  is  mentioned  by  Ruskin 
in  his  “ Winkleman’s  Ancient  Art.”  He  draws,  amid  the 
outlines  of  Turner’s  painting  of  the  “ Old  Bridge  over 
the  Rhine  at  Coblentz  ” (see  Fig.  66,  page  203)  five  lines 
not  straight  but  curved.  These  he  continues  on  from 
the  curved  outlines  of  three  boats  and  of  one  raft  in  the 
river,  and  of  the  back  of  a woman  sitting  on  a ledge,  and 
he  shows  how  all  the  curves  lead  the  eye  toward  a large 
tower  from  which  they  radiate,  and  which  is  the  principal 
figure  of  the  picture.  The  use  of  curves  for  this  purpose 
is  illustrated  almost  equally  well  in  the  “ Landscape  with 
Water  ” by  Corot,  Fig.  73,  page  223.  Notice  in  this, 
how  the  principal  lines  bend  toward  the  distant  bridge 
at  the  right. 

When  works  of  sculpture,  as  in  the  bas-relief,  are  com- 
posed of  many  figures,  there  is  no  reason  why,  so  far  as 
concerns  outline,  these  effects  should  not  be  produced  in 
the  same  way  as  in  painting.  In  the  “ Romans  Besieging 
a German  Fortress  ” (Fig.  6,  page  2 7),  but  especially  in 
“ The  Soldier’s  Return,”  a relief  on  one  side  of  the  famous 
National  Monument  on  the  Rhine  near  Bingen,  familiarly 
called  “ The  Watch  on  the  Rhine”  (Fig.  52,  page  176), 
notice  how  the  lines  described  by  the  limbs  of  the  figures 
on  each  side  of  the  centre,  are  made  to  point,  not  exactly 
to  the  chief  figures,  but  with  equal  effectiveness  toward 


51—  DECLINE  OF  CARTHAGE.— TURNER. 


1 76 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


them,  and  as  if  to  an  ideal  central-point  that  is  above 
them.  A similar  effect,  but  having  a more  direct  bearing 
upon  symmetry  in  that  it  directs  attention  to  a central-line 
rather  than  point , yet  evidently  suggested  by  the  way  in 
which  limbs  radiate  from  a tree-trunk,  may  be  observed 
in  the  Vatican  statue  of  a German  Captive  (Fig.  53, 
page  177). 

In  architecture,  this  method  is  not  used  as  extensively, 
perhaps,  as  it  should  be.  At  the  same  time,  there  is 


FIG.  52. —THE  SOLDIER’S  RETURN. 

(From  the  National  Monument  near  Bingen,  Germany.) 
See  pages  16,  26,  174,  182,  257. 


more  of  it  than,  at  first,  might  be  supposed.  Even  the 
laws  of  the  perspective  on  which  it  is  based  were  applied 
by  the  Greeks  to  produce  effects  in  buildings  in  much 
the  same  way  as  we  now  use  them  to  produce  effects  in 
pictures.  This  fact  explains  the  slight  upward  curves 
which  have  been  found  toward  the  middles  of  the  pave- 
ments of  the  porches  on  which  the  columns  rested,  also 
the  corresponding  curves  in  the  entablatures,  as  well  as 


FIG.  53.— GERMAN  CAPTIVE— ROMAN  PERIOD. 
(From  Statue  in  the  Vatican  Museum.) 

See  pages  176,  182,  257. 


12 


I/S 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


the  narrower  spaces  left  between  the  columns  at  the  ex- 
treme sides,  as  contrasted  with  the  middles,  of  the  porches, 
and  other  variations  from  exact  measurements  in  other 
distant,  as  contrasted  with  near,  features.  Every  thing  in 
these  buildings  was  planned  so  as  to  produce  a desired  effect 
from  some  supposable  view-point.  This  subject  can  be 
treated  properly  only  in  connection  with  proportion.  At 
present,  it  is  sufficient  to  notice  the  evidences  in  archi- 
tecture of  the  same  sort  of  artistic  developments  from 
the  laws  of  the  perspective  that  have  been  noticed  in  the 
other  arts  of  sight.  Every  one  must  have  observed  oc- 
casionally in  connection  with  mouldings  and  buttresses, 
with  divisions  and  cappings  of  windows  and  porches,  with 
external  and  internal  arches  and  ridge-poles  of  roofs, 
gables,  and  ceilings,  but  especially  in  connection  with  the 
sides  of  towers  and  spires,  and  with  innumerable  orna- 
mental details,  outlines  that  seem  to  suggest,  at  least,  a 
desire  to  point  the  thought  away  to  another  feature  of 
principal  interest  with  which  they  are  organically  con- 
nected. Illustrations  of  these  effects,  sufficient  for  the 
purpose,  may  be  found  in  the  figures  given  in  treating  of 
continuity  in  Chapter  XIV.,  which  see.  Undoubtedly  it 
would  add  to  the  effects  of  buildings  if  more  were  made 
of  this  possibility,  as  might  easily  be  done  by  bestowing 
a little  more  care  upon  the  arrangements  of  the  necessary 
lines  and  arches.  Certain  it  is  that,  in  any  art,  the  mind, 
in  glancing  along  in  the  direction  to  which  an  outline 
thus  related  points,  takes  pleasure  in  finding  other  lines 
continuing  it  or  converging  somewhere  with  it,  and,  even 
without  consciousness  of  the  reason,  derives  from  this 
arrangement  impressions  both  of  principality  and  unity 
in  connection  with  the  whole,  which  nothing  else  could 
give. 


SETTING  IN  TAINTING  AND  SCULPTURE.  I 79 

The  nature  of  that  which  in  these  arts  may  be  called 
setting  will  suggest  itself  almost  without  illustration.  As 
a rule,  the  principal  features  occupy  the  centre  and  fore- 
ground of  a painting,  and  the  subordinate  features 
are  delegated  to  its  sides  and  back-ground.  This 
is  true,  whether  applied  to  groups  of  figures  described 
about  others,  or  to  fringe,  robes,  trappings,  or  other 
ornaments  described  about  single  figures.  It  is  the  object 


FIG.  54.— MITHRAS  STABBING  THE  BULL. 
(Relief  in  the  Louvre.) 

See  pages  74,  120,  1S0,  218. 


of  chief  interest  that  occupies  the  centre;  the  other  ob- 
jects surround  it.  Notice  Gerome’s  “ Pollice  Verso,”  Fig. 
26,  page  81.  Just  as  the  central-point,  too,  usually  has 
reference  to  both  thought  and  form,  so  has  the  setting. 
The  fringe,  robes,  trappings,  and  other  ornaments  about  a 
king,  for  instance,  are  given  to  him  for  the  purpose  both  of 
interpreting  and  of  ornamenting  him.  Observe  the  Swan 
with  the  “ Leda,”  Fig.  17,  page  74,  the  armor  on  the 


i So 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


“Titus,”  Fig.  1 8,  page  74,  as  well  as  that  which  fills  the 
background  in  the  “ Mithras  and  the  Bull,”  Fig.  54,  page 
179.  Setting , when  thus  properly  subordinated,  introduces 
variety  and  contrast  not  for  its  own  sake,  but  for  the 
purpose  of  adding  by  way  of  explanation  and  offset  to  that 
which  is  of  central  interest.  In  painting,  either  outline 
or  color  may  be  employed  in  the  setting ; in  sculpture, 
usually  only  the  former ; but  the  possibilities  con- 
nected with  the  adjustments  of  bands,  girdles,  drapery, 
canopies,  niches,  and,  especially  in  bas-reliefs,  of  other 
figures  surrounding  the  principal  ones,  obviate  all  prac- 
tical difficulties  in  attaining  any  results  that  are  desirable. 
In  architecture,  the  method  is  manifested  by  the  way  in 
which  doors,  windows,  and  other  individual  features  are 
ornamented,  usually  in  connection  with  their  surround- 
ings; and  whole  buildings  also  in  connection  with  their 
foundations,  gables,  roofs,  and  towers.  A moment’s 
thought  will  convince  us  that  there  is  a true  sense  in 
which  these  are  all  parts  of  the  setting.  Notice  the 
doorways  in  Figs.  95  and  96,  pages  289  and  290;  also  the 
“Taj  Mahal,”  Fig.  3,  page  19,  “St.  Mark’s,”  Fig.  31, 
page  88,  “St.  Sophia,”  Fig.  42,  page  123,  and  the  “ Cha- 
teau de  Rondeau,”  Fig.  85,  page  258. 

Parallelism  is  a development  of  methods  of  setting , 
in  conformity  with  the  requirements  of  order,  especially 
of  these  as  manifested  in  the  direction  of  complement  and 
balance.  We  all  must  have  observed  that  while  a single 
line,  described  by  being  drawn  or  worked  along  the  edge 
of  any  material,  forms  a border  for  it,  two  or  more  lines, 
made  parallel  to  the  first,  cause  the  border  to  appear  more 
satisfactory.  A similar  effect  results  from  the  parallelisms 
that  are  seen  in  the  flutings  of  columns,  in  the  mouldings 
of  picture  frames,  in  the  string-courses  and  cornices  of 


PARALLELISM  IN  PAINTING. 


i Si 


buildings,  as  also  in  the  caps  and  sills  of  their  windows 
and  doors. 

In  the  forms  of  pictures  and  statues,  necessitating,  too, 
in  the  main  a use  of  widely  differing  curves,  we  frequently 
find  the  arms  and  lower  limbs,  indeed  the  whole  figures  and 


FIG.  55. — OTHELLO. ~CARL  BECKER. 
See  pages  72,  174,  181,  239. 


the  folds  of  the  drapery  about  them,  as  well  as  the  surround- 
ing architectural  arrangements  of  pillars,  pilasters,  arches, 
and  furniture,  all  grouped  in  such  a way  that  their  prom- 
inent outlines  are  parallel,  or  very  nearly  so.  I11  the  origi- 
nal of  Becker’s  “ Othello,”  Fig.  55,  above,  one  can  count 


1 82 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


at  the  top  of  the  picture  forty-two  distinctly  parallel  per- 
pendicular lines,  used  in  the  delineations  of  two  distant 
churches  and  their  domes,  the  mast  of  a ship,  three  pillars 
of  a porch,  a swinging  lamp,  the  figure  of  the  Moor,  etc.  At 
the  right,  there  are  also  twenty-two  horizontal  lines  of 
this  kind,  found  in  a rug,  a platform,  a bench,  a mantel- 
piece, a niche,  etc.  At  the  left,  are  fifteen  on  the  floor 
extending  diagonally,  and  twenty  others  formed  by  a 
rug  and  the  railing  of  a porch  ; while,  in  at  least  three  cases, 
three  sets  of  these  lines  can  be  detected  amid  the  direc- 
tions suggested  by  the  limbs  and  drapery  in  the  group 
composed  of  Desdemona  and  her  father.  In  Gerome’s 
“ Pollice  Verso,”  Fig.  26,  page  81,  one  can  count  fifteen 
parallel  horizontal  lines,  nine  of  them  formed  by  the  archi- 
tectural work  with  rugs  hung  over  it,  which  is  in  front  of 
the  spectators,  and  six  by  the  bodies  of  three  dead  gladi- 
ators lying  in  the  arena,  apparently  without  any  regard 
to  the  requirements  of  order,  just  where  they  have  been 
slain.  Besides  this,  in  the  same  picture,  we  can  count, 
including  all  that  can  be  seen  in  pilasters,  pillars,  doors, 
etc.,  almost  sixty  of  these  lines  that  are  perpendicular. 
Among  the  figures  of  the  spectators,  at  least  six  extended 
arms  are  exactly  parallel;  so  is  the  dirk,  the  shield,  and 
one  leg  of  the  principal  figure  ; and  his  arm  that  holds 
the  dirk  is  exactly  parallel  to  the  extended  arm  of  his 
antagonist  who  is  at  his  feet.  Parallelism  is  just  as  evident 
a characteristic,  too,  as  is  central-point , of  the  sculpture 
represented  in  Figs.  52  and  53,  pages  176  and  177,  and  in 
Fig.  6 of  page  27.  Notice  the  same  characteristic  in  the 
“Dancer”  also,  Fig.  56,  page  183,  as  well  as  in  the 
“ Laocoon,”  Fig.  75,  page  226.  It  may  be  of  interest  also 
to  recognize  the  antiquity  of  this  method,  as  may  be 
done  by  a glance  at  the  Chaldean  bust  now  in  the  British 


PARALLELISM. 


Museum,  inscribed  with  the  name  of  “ Nebo,”  Fig.  57, 
page  184. 

The  effect  of  all  this  parallelism,  as  was  indicated  on 
page  1 5 1,  is  to  make  objects  that  frequently  are  only  as- 
sociated by  way  of  congruity,  and  therefore  only  ideally 
alike,  seem,  nevertheless, 
to  have  like  directions  or 
tendencies.  Moreover,  in 
connection  with  the  other 
effects  of  outline,  it  di- 
vides the  spaces  covered 
by  a composition  so  that 
all  things  put  into  them 
appear  to  be  grouped  in 
an  orderly  way.  It  may 
be  well  to  notice,  too, 
that  in  this  it  corresponds 
exactly  to  the  effects  of 
verse  and  phrase,  which 
in  poetry  and  music,  in  a 
similar  way,  divide  up 
the  time. 

Symmetry , as  has  been 
said,  is  a general  balance 
of  all  the  parts  of  a com- 
position. There  can  be 
no  such  balance  when 
the  effects  just  considered  are  entirely  absent;  and  when 
they  are  present  they  almost  necessarily  involve  it.  But 
besides  this,  as  applied  to  visible  forms,  symmetry  seems 
to  suggest  especially  the  idea  of  an  effect  produced  by 
balancing  pairs  of  many  numbers  in  an  organized  body, 
like  that  of  a man  or  a horse.  This  idea  is  probably 


(From  the  Marble  Relief  Discovered  in  the 
Theatre  of  Dionysus.) 

See  pages  16,  144,  182,  257. 


184 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


derived  by  way  of  association  from  the  former  significance 
of  the  term,  which  now  it  has  lost.  By  symmetry,  from 
ffvv  and  psrpov,  the  Greeks  meant  what  we  now  call  pro- 
portion, or,  as  they  defined  this,  a form,  all  the  members  of 
which  have  a common  measure  among  themselves.  Their 


FIG.  57.— A BUST  INSCRIBED  WITH  THE  NAME  OF  NEBO.— (British  Museum.) 

See  page  183. 

conception  of  proportion  they  derived,  primarily,  from  the 
measurements  of  the  human  figure.  But,  according  to  our 
use  of  the  terms,  while  a well  proportioned  form  would  al- 
ways be  symmetrical,  a form  like  that  of  a very  slim  man 


SYMMETRY. 


i85 


might  be  symmetrical,  as  far  as  it  went,  and  yet  would  not 
be  well  proportioned. 

Of  proportion  we  cannot  speak  further  here.  The  term 
symmetry , as  has  been  said,  necessarily  involves  that  of 
many  pairs  of  balancing  features.  In  this  sense,  the  word 
symmetrical  is  ap- 
plied by  way  of 
designation  to  cer- 
tain paintings,  es- 
pecially those  of 
the  early  Italians, 
in  which  there  are 
precisely  as  many 
figures  on  one  side 
of  the  principal 
figure  as  on  the 
other  side.  Seethe 
“ Lucca  Madon- 
na,” by  Fra  Barto- 
lommeo, Fig.  58, 
on  this  page. 

Symmetry  is  a 
term  that  may  be 
applied,  of  course, 
to  any  develop- 
ments of  comple- 
ment or  balance , as 
already  considered 
on  pages  46  and  84,  in  the  degree  in  which  the  principle 
underlying  their  effects,  whether  in  the  arrangements  of 
equal  numbers  or  like  outlines,  is  applicable  to  all  the 
features  on  one  side  of  the  middle  perpendicular  line  of 
a product  as  compared  with  all  those  upon  its  other  side. 


FIG.  58.— LUCCA  MADONNA.— FRA  BARTOLOMMEO. 
See  pages  72,  185. 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


1 86 

The  intimate  connection,  too,  already  indicated  by  the 
arrangement  of  the  methods  on  page  131,  will  be  ob- 
served here  between  symmetry  and  organic  form.  In  fact, 
all  the  various  methods  of  grouping  the  factors  of  paint- 
ings or  statues,  so  as  to  have  the  contours  of  the  wholes 
suggest  a circle,  an  oval,  an  arch,  a pyramid,  or  a wedge, 
such  as  were  mentioned  on  pages  115-118  are  almost  as 
much  necessitated  by  the  requirements  of  symmetry  as  of 
the  method  which  they  are  there  used  to  illustrate. 

The  principle  of  variety,  however,  which  we  find  every- 
where illustrated  in  nature  and  in  art,  must  not  be  sup- 
posed to  be  entirely  inoperative  in  connection  with  sym- 
metry. The  two  sides  of  even  a very  symmetrical  tree 
do  not  exactly  correspond,  and  a tree  depicted  in  art  is 
most  apt  to  have  the  appearance  of  life,  if  the  same  be 
true  of  it.1  The  two  sides  of  a man’s  body  are  more  near- 
ly alike  than  those  of  a tree ; but  in  the  degree  in  which 
he  possesses  life  and  consequent  grace,  they  will,  while 
suggesting  likeness,  be  made  unlike  by  the  positions  which 
he  assumes.  Notice  Fig.  7,  page  30;  Fig.  19,  page  75  ; 
and  the  “Gladiator”  in  Fig.  26,  page  81.  The  same 
must  be  true  to  some  extent  of  a building.  The  slight 
deviation  from  exact  regularity,  owing  to  the  position  of 
the  central  tower  in  the  “ Old  Louvre,”  Fig.  59,  opposite, 
does  not  interfere  with  the  artistic  impressiveness  of  the 
castle  as  a whole.  The  same  is  true  of  the  slight  lack  of 
exact  balance  in  “ Salisbury  Cathedral,”  Fig.  68,  page 
207,  as  well  as  in  “ Shadyside  Church,”  Fig.  34,  page  91. 
As  was  said  on  page  87,  the  dignity  of  effect  demanded 
in  public  edifices  may  sometimes  necessitate  absolute 
similarity  on  both  sides  of  the  centre,  as  in  the  “Taj 
Mahal,”  Fig.  3,  page  19,  “ St.  Peter’s,  Rome,”  Fig.  23,  page 
78,  “St.  Marks,  Venice,”  Fig.  31,  page  88,  and  “St. 

1 Notice  floral  arrangements  in  Fig.  49,  page  161. 


S YMME  TR  y. 


IS  7 


Sophia,”  Constantinople,  Fig.  42,  page  1 2 3.  Graceful 

effects,  on  the  contrary,  such  as  are  desirable  in  household 
architecture,  may  sometimes  be  best  secured  by  differ- 
ence, as  in  the  villas  in  Figs.  24,  page  79,  and  28,  page 


FIG.  59.— THE  OLD  LOUVRE. 

See  page  1S6. 


84.  But  how  about  a combination  of  dignity  and 
grace?  This  is  as  difficult  to  attain  in  art  as  in  life. 
But  when  it  is  attained  in  either,  is  there  any  denying 
that  we  have  the  ideal  ? 


CHAPTER  XII. 


REPETITION,  AL  TERATION,  AND  ALTERNATION. 


Importance  and  Order  of  Development  of  Repetition  as  Contrasted  with 
Congruity — Repetition,  a Necessary  and  Elementary  Factor  in  all 
Forms — Alteration — Flow  Differing  from  Variety — Alternation  and 
other  Allied  Methods — The  Influence  of  Repetition,  Alteration,  and 
Alternation  upon  Thought — Plow  they  are  Exemplified  in  Nature — In 
Art  ; Poetic  Repetition  with  Alteration  in  Lines,  Feet,  Alliteration, 
Assonance,  Rhymes — In  Recurring  Refrains,  Choruses  : Explanation 
of  the  French  Forms  of  Verse — In  Epithets  and  Phrases — Alternation 
in  Accent  and  Lack  ot  Accent  and  in  Rhyming  Lines — The  Three 
Methods  in  Music — The  Three  in  Primitive  Forms  of  Ornamentation 
Appealing  to  Sight — In  Painting  : How  Imitated  from  Nature  and  how 
Produced  by  Artistic  Arrangements  of  Forms — Even  of  Landscapes — 
The  same  in  Color — In  Sculpture — In  Architecture — The  Fundamental 
Reason  why  Styles  should  not  be  Mixed — Necessity  of  Unity  of  Effect. 


F the  three  methods  of  bringing  together  forms  that 


compare — by  congruity , by  repetition , and  by  conso- 
nance, — repetition  has  been  assigned  the  second  place,  not 
because  historically  it  was  the  second  to  be  manifested  in 
the  development  of  art,  nor  because  it  is  to-day  the  second 
in  importance.  On  the  contrary,  reasons  might  be  adduced 
to  show  that  it  was  the  first  to  be  developed  and  is  to-day 
the  first  in  importance.  One  might  claim,  in  fact,  that 
both  congruity  and  consonance  are  modifications  of  it,  and 
allowable  merely  as  any  variety  is  allowable.  But  while 
conceding  all  that  could  be  proved  in  this  direction,  it 
seems  to  be  true,  nevertheless,  that,  in  the  composition  of 


1S8 


REPETITION , ALTERA  TION,  AND  ALTERNATION.  1 89 

the  higher  arts,  the  artist  starts  with  a form  that  embodies 
a general  conception,  a thought,  and  strives  first  to  con- 
nect this  with  other  forms  embodying  the  same  thought, 
or  like  it  by  way  of  congruity ; and  only  later  comes  to 
repetition , which  has  to  do  with  arranging  such  details 
as  foot  and  rhyme,  and  line  and  limb,  so  that  all  the 
minutiae  of  form  as  form  shall  manifest  the  ever  prevail- 
ing domination  of  comparison. 

However,  if  thought  can  never  become  art  until  it  be 
given  a form,  and  if  a form  be,  as  has  been  said,  an 
appearance;  and  if  an  artistic  form  be  an  appearance 
in  which  like  is  put  with  like,  it  is  evident  that  the 
effect  produced  by  the  repetition  of  the  same  appear- 
ance is  something  which  no  artist,  whatever  the  qual- 
ity of  his  thought,  can  afford  to  neglect.  Indeed 
when  we  inquire  into  the  causes  of  rhythm,  proportion, 
and  harmony  of  tone  and  color,  as  well  as  of  all  the 
subtler  qualities  that  make  the  arts  exactly  what  they 
are,  we  are  forced  to  acknowledge  that  there  is  no  one  of 
them,  as  we  now  know  them,  the  form  of  which  is  not 
based  on  repetition  as  an  elementary  method. 

The  contrasting  form  of  repetition  is  alteration — a. 
better  term  than  change , because  indicating  a difference 
not  so  radical,  and  yet  sufficient  for  that  which  is  in- 
tended. It  is  comparatively  easy  to  produce  effects  of 
variety  by  introducing  forms  that  involve  entire  change, 
as  in  the  different  rhythms  and  movements  in  the  quota- 
tions in  Chapter  II.,  page  20,  and  in  the  different  sizes, 
positions,  and  attitudes  given  to  the  forms  in  Figs. 
14,  page  70,  and  15,  page  71,  as  well  as  to  the 
different  shapes  given  to  the  coverings  of  openings 
and  to  roofs  and  domes  in  Fig.  4,  page  21  ; Fig.  5,  page 
23  ; Fig.  67,  page  205,  and  to  those  of  the  “ Design  for  a 


190 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


Theatre  and  Ton-Halle,”  more  than  one  half  of  which 
is  presented  in  Fig.  60,  page  191,  the  other  side  being 
a counterpart  of  this.  But  it  is  not  so  easy  to  produce 
such  effects  by  introducing  alteration  into  forms  that, 
throughout  a composition,  remain  the  same  in  principle; 
as  in  the  different  and  yet  similar  metres  in  the  quota- 
tions in  Chapter  1 1.,  on  page  24;  in  the  different  and  yet 
similar  positions  given  to  the  forms  in  Fig.  16,  page  73  ; 
Fig.  43,  page  143  ; and  Fig.  70,  page  21 5 ; and  in  the  differ- 
ent and  yet  similar  shapes  given  to  the  coverings  of 
openings  and  to  roofs  and  domes  in  Figs.  2,  page  17;  3,  page 
19  ; 12,  page  49  ; 31,  page  88  ; 42,  page  123  ; and  Fig.  68, 
page  207. 

The  latter  course  alone  perfectly  fulfils  the  require- 
ment of  art  that  variety  should  be  kept  subordinate  to 
unity  and  comparison.  At  the  same  time,  alteration  thus 
interpreted  evidently  requires  and  manifests  brain-work; 
and  it  is  by  the  brain-work  involved  as  much  as 
by  conformity  to  aesthetic  laws,  that  the  world  in  gen- 
eral measures  artistic  achievement.  For  instance  in 
the  “ Public  Library,”  Fig.  61,  page  193,  can  any  one 
fail  to  recognize  how  much  more  thought  it  would 
have  required  to  produce  an  equally  effective  entrance 
by  having  the  same  general  shapes  there  as  in  the  window- 
caps  at  its  side,  yet  altered ; or  to  produce  an  equally 
successful  side  for  the  practical  needs  of  a library,  by 
having  the  same  general  shapes  there  as  over  the  open- 
ings at  the  entrance?  It  is  proper  to  say,  therefore,  that 
the  Shadyside  Presbyterian  Church,  by  the  same  archi- 
tects, Fig.  34,  page  91,  is  superior,  artistically,  to  this 
Library,  for  one  reason,  because  it  manifests  more  brain- 
work. 

Alteratio)i  and  repetition  used  conjointly  in  such  ways 


FIG.  60.— PART  OF  DESIGN  FOR  THEATRE  AND  TON-HALLE,  ZURICH,  SWITZERLAND 

See  pages  22,  190,  208,  261. 


192 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


as  to  fulfil  the  principles  underlying  complement , counter- 
action, and  balance ,'  lead  to  what  we  all  know  as  alternation. 
The  bringing  together  of  repeated  effects  so  that  those 
that  are  alike  in  one  regard  are  in  one  place,  and  those 
that  are  alike  in  another  regard  are  in  another  place;  as, 
for  instance,  when  all  the  light  in  a painting  is  near  the 
central-point , and  all  the  shade  at  the  sides,  described 
about  the  light,  is  called  massing  or  breadth.  When  like 
features  are  not  massed  but  scattered  and  mixed,  indis- 
criminately, with  unlike  ones,  we  have  that  development 
of  confusion  which  may  be  termed  inter  sponsion?  Repeti- 
tion and  massing,  introduced  notwithstanding  apparent 
inter  sponsion,  give  us  an  outgrowth  of  complement  or  bal- 
ance, called  complication .'  Finally,  when,  under  such  con- 
ditions, order  has  had  its  perfect  work,  the  outlining  of 
the  group  that  results  manifests  continuity .’ 

When  we  pass  from  congruity  to  the  methods  now  to 
be  considered,  we  leave  the  region  where  thought  and 
effects  upon  thought  are  uppermost  in  the  mind  of  the 
artist.  Repetition  and  everything  associated  with  it,  have 
their  origin  in  the  exigencies  of  form.  At  the  same  time, 
we  cannot  be  reminded  too  frequently  that  all  forms,  as 
used  in  art,  are  methods  of  representing  thoughts  or  feel- 
ings by  rendering  them  more  concrete  and  emphatic. 
Recalling  this,  we  have  but  to  apply  the  principle  to  the 
methods  before  us,  and  we  shall  recognize  that  there  are 
no  ways  of  embodying  thought  in  forms  that  are  more 
certain  than  these  to  influence  both  sense  and  soul  to- 
gether. The  slightest  perceptible  rubbing  or  scratching 
against  any  part  of  our  body,  if  repeated  a sufficient 
number  of  times,  will  cause  inflammation.  The  slightest 
perceptible  vibration  that  can  affect  the  organs  of  hearing 
1 Compare  what  is  said  here  with  the  arrangement  of  methods  on  page  131. 


REPETITION,  ALTERATION , AND  ALTERNATION.  1 93 


or  sight,  if  repeated  with  sufficient  rapidity  and  persist- 
ence, will  produce  a sound  or  a color,  and  nothing  except 
repetition  will  do  this.  The  same  is  true  of  its  use  when 
appealing  more  directly  to  the  mind.  “ What  a wonder- 
fully complete  system  of  police  signalling  these  Germans 
have  ! ” said  an  English  gentleman  to  me  in  Stuttgart. 


FIG.  61.— PUBLIC  LIBRARY,  NEW  LONDON,  CONN. 

See  pages  123,  190. 

“ They  are  at  it  now,  as  they  have  been  for  nights  past.” 
We  stepped  out  upon  a balcony  which  stood  high  on 
a hillside,  and  looked  down  upon  the  moon-lit  city. 
“ Listen,”  he  said  ; “ first  you  hear  a whistle  off  there  at 
the  railway  station;  then  one  at  the  palace;  then  one 
farther  up  hereon  the  hill.”  I listened  ; and  what  I heard, 


194 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


and  what  he  had  heard,  came  from  tree-toads  in  the  gar- 
den under  us.  A single  note  would  not  have  attracted 
his  attention.  It  was  the  repetition  of  the  notes  that  had 
filled  his  imagination  with  visions  of  socialists,  and  the  ef- 
ficiency of  police  supervision  under  a military  government. 
So  with  objects  in  the  field  of  sight.  An  ordinary  fence 
made  of  continuous  boards  has  little  to  cause  us  to  notice  it. 
Make  it  a picket  fence,  and  the  repetitions  of  the  pales 
with  the  alternating  spaces  between  them  will  at  once 
give  it  interest.  Introduce  still  more  both  of  repetition 
and  alternation , by  placing  here  and  there  a post  of  a differ- 
ent pattern  and  capping,  and  the  fence  will  become  an 
important  feature  in  the  landscape,  which  no  one  can  pass 
without  observing. 

As  in  the  cases  of  the  other  methods  that  we  have  con- 
sidered, repetition , alteration , and  alternation  are  abun- 
dantly exemplified  in  nature  : repetition  with  alteration, 
in  the  cry,  chirp,  hair,  feathers,  teeth,  claws  of  every 
beast  or  bird  ; in  the  limbs,  leaves,  flowers,  fruit  of  every 
tree  or  shrub  ; in  the  cliffs,  stones,  shells  of  every  lake  or 
river ; and  alternation  in  the:  rise  and  fall  of  the  sounds 
of  the  wind,  of  the  notes  of  the  bird,  of  the  accented 
and  unaccented  syllables  of  speech  ; in  the  limbs  of  trees 
outlined  against  the  intervening  sky  behind  them  ; in  the 
veinings  and  plain  surfaces  of  leaves  ; in  the  stripes  of 
different  colors  upon  shells  or  coats  of  animals ; in  the 
very  fingers  and  the  spaces  between  them  on  which  the 
eyes  must  gaze  when  doing  anything  artistic.  No  wonder 
that  art,  in  representing  natural  forms,  should  reproduce 
these  effects,  and,  in  elaborating  its  reproductions,  develop 
them  still  further. 

Let  us  notice  now  how  this  is  done  ; and,  first,  in 
poetry.  What  is  it  that  causes  form  in  this  art  ? The  most 


REPETITION,  ALTERATION,  AND  ALTERNATION.  195 


superficial  thought  reveals — what  more  thorough  study 
confirms — that  poetic  form  is  made  up  almost  entirely  of 
a series  of  repetitions,  of  lines  of  like  numbers  of  feet,  of 
feet  of  like  numbers  of  accented  and  unaccented  syllables, 
and'  of  alliterations,  assonances,  and  rhymes  of  like 
sounds,  all  following  one  another  in  close  succession. 
Yet  few  of  these  repeated  elements  are  exactly  the  same. 
The  rhymes  and  lines  and  feet  and  rhyming  words  in 
almost  all  poems  that  we  admire,  include  sufficient  altera- 
tions to  relieve  the  repetitions  of  even  a suggestion  of  same- 
ness. Notice  again  the  quotations  in  Chapter  II.,  page  24. 

The  principle  of  repetition  explains  the  use,  too,  of 
choruses  and  refrains  with  which  we  are  all  familiar. 
Notice  the  French  forms  of  verse  illustrating  what  is  said 
on  pages  55  and  107.  Any  one  who  will  examine  those  se- 
lections, or  the  following,  cannot  fail  to  remark  the  amount 
of  repetition  in  them,  either  in  whole  lines,  phrases,  or 
rhymes.  Elaborate  essays  have  been  written  in  attempts 
to  give  the  reasons  that  have  led  to  the  construction  of 
these  forms.  It  is  one  proof  of  the  importance,  if  a man 
would  understand  a single  art,  of  making  a comparative 
study  of  all  the  arts,  that,  as  this  book  shows,  there  are  no 
reasons  whatever  underlying  these  French  forms  other 
than  those  underlying  all  art-forms.  In  fact,  the  roundel, 
rondeau,  ballade,  villanelle , triolet,  and  their  like,  are  pre- 
cisely what  one  ought  to  expect  that  a people,  possessing 
so  keen  a sense  of  form  as  the  French,  would  naturally 
and  almost  necessarily  develop.  Observe  the  repetitions 
in  the  following  : 

My  day  and  night  are  in  my  lady’s  hand ; 

I have  no  other  sunrise  than  her  sight  ; 

For  me  her  favor  glorifies  the  land  ; 

Her  anger  darkens  all  the  cheerful  light, 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


196 


Her  face  is  fairer  than  the  hawthorne  white, 
When  all  a-flower  in  May  the  hedge-rows  stand  ; 

While  she  is  kind,  I know  of  no  affright ; 

My  day  and  night  are  in  my  lady's  hand. 

All  heaven  in  her  glorious  eyes  is  spanned  ; 

Her  smile  is  softer  than  the  summer’s  night, 
Gladder  than  daybreak  on  the  Faery  strand  ; 

I have  no  other  sunrise  than  her  sight. 

Her  silver  speech  is  like  the  singing  flight 
Of  runnels  rippling  o’er  the  jewelled  sand  ; 

Her  kiss  a dream  of  delicate  delight  ; 

For  me  her  favor  glorifies  the  land. 

What  if  the  Winter  chase  the  Summer  bland  ; 
The  gold  sun  in  her  hair  burns  ever  bright. 

If  she  be  sad,  straightway  all  joy  is  banned  ; 

Her  anger  darkens  all  the  cheerful  light. 

Come  weal  or  woe,  I am  my  lady’s  knight, 

And  in  her  service  every  ill  withstand  ; 

Love  is  my  lord  in  all  the  world’s  despite, 

And  holdeth  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand 

My  day  and  night. 

— Rondeau  Redouble  : John  Payne 

Where  are  the  creatures  of  the  deep, 

That  made  the  sea-world  wondrous  fair? 

The  dolphins  that  with  royal  sweep 
Sped  Venus  of  the  golden  hair 
Through  leagues  of  summer  sea  and  air? 

Are  they  all  gone  where  past  things  be  ? 

The  merman  in  his  weedy  lair  ? 

O sweet  wild  creatures  of  the  sea  ! 

O singing  syrens,  do  ye  weep 
That  now  ye  hear  not  anywhere 
The  swift  oars  of  the  seamen  leap, 

See  their  wild,  eager  eyes  astare  ? 

O syrens,  that  no  more  ensnare 
The  souls  of  men  that  once  were  free. 


REPETITION,  ALTERATION , AND  ALTERNATION.  1 97 


Are  ye  not  filled  with  cold  despair — 

O sweet  wild  creatures  of  the  sea  ! 

O Triton,  on  some  coral  steep, 

In  green-gloom  depths,  dost  thou  forbear 
With  wreathed  horn  to  call  thy  sheep, 

The  wandering  sea-waves  to  thy  care  ? 

O mermaids,  once  so  debonnair. 

Sport  ye  no  more  with  mirthful  glee  ? 

The  ways  of  lover-folk  forswear  ? — 

O sweet  wild  creatures  of  the  sea  ! 

Envoy. 

Deep  down  ’mid  coral  caves,  beware  ! 

They  wait  a day  that  yet  must  be. 

When  ocean  shall  be  earth’s  sole  heir — 

O sweet  wild  creatures  of  the  sea  ! 

— Ballade  of  the  Sea-Folk  : William  Sharp. 

A similar  principle  explains  also  the  recurring  epithets 
and  phrases  used  in  longer  poems,  in  which  the  absence 
of  rhyme  and  its  allied  elements  renders  the  employment 
of  the  more  common  methods  of  repetition  impracticable. 
There  is  a subtle  effect  of  unity  imparted  by  repetitions, 
such  as  we  find  in  Homer,  of  phrases  like  swift-footed, 
large-eyed,  and  witiged  words.  The  same  is  true  of  the 
repetitions  of  longer  phrases  and  whole  lines,  as  in  the 
effects,  also  Homeric  in  origin,  which  are  so  admirably 
imitated  by  Tennyson  in  his  “ Passing  of  Arthur.” 

Take  Excalibur 

And  fling  him  far  into  the  middle  mere  ; 

Watch  what  thou  seest  and  lightly  bring  me  word. 


Yet  I thy  hest  will  all  perform  at  full, 

Watch  what  I see  and  lightly  bring  thee  word. 

As  thou  art  lief  and  dear,  and  do  the  thing 
I bade  thee,  watch  and  lightly  bring  me  word. 


198  THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 

And  again: 

And  clutched  the  sword, 

And  strongly  wheeled  and  threw  it  . . . 

But  ere  he  dipt  the  surface,  rose  an  arm. 

Clothed  in  white  samite,  mystic,  wonderful, 

And  caught  him  by  the  hilt  and  brandished  him 
Three  times,  and  drew  him  under  in  the  mere. 

And  lightly  went  the  other  to  the  king. 

Of  which  the  knight  Sir  Bedivere  tells  as  follows: 

Then  with  both  hands  I flung  him,  wheeling  him. 

But  when  I looked  again,  behold  an  arm 
Clothed  in  white  samite,  mystic,  wonderful, 

That  caught  him  by  the  hilt  and  brandished  him 
Three  times,  and  drew  him  under  in  the  mere. 

Alternation  is  almost  equally  characteristic  of  poetic 
form.  Rhythm,  with  the  feet  and  measures  that  enter  as 
an  essential  factor  into  it,  is  dependent  on  the  regularly 
alternating  recurrence  of  accented  and  unaccented  sylla- 
bles. The  effect  of  many  of  our  rhyming  verses,  too,  is 
dependent  on  the  same  method , the  metre,  length,  and 
rhyme  of  one  line  corresponding  to  those  of  the  second 
line  following,  and  not  to  those  of  the  first,  e. g.  : 

The  merry  brown  hares  came  leaping 
Over  the  crest  of  the  hill, 

Where  the  clover  and  corn  lay  sleeping 
Under  the  moon-light  still. 

— A Rough  Rhyme  o?i  a Rough  Matter  : Kingsley. 

Repetition,  alteration , and  alternation  are  equally  char- 
acteristic of  the  forms  of  music.  In  every  shortest  melody, 
like  notes,  phrases,  refrains  and  cadences  recur  and  alter- 
nate over  and  over  again  ; yet  always,  in  a composition 
that  is  successful,  with  sufficient  alteration  to  prevent 
monotony.  Notice  illustrations  of  this  in  the  music  on 


REPETITION , ALTERATION , AND  ALTERNATION.  199 


pages  25,  43  and  67,  also  in  the  following  typical  melody. 
Like  strains  in  it  are  indicated  by  like  capital  letters,  A, 

B,  or  C. 


Mine  eyes  have  seen  the  glo  - ry  of  the  com-ing  of  the 


Lord;  He  is  tramp-ing  out  the  vintage  where  the  grapes  of  wraflh  are 


stored;  He  hath  loosed  the  fate  - fnl  light  - ning  of  His 


• * -e  — :g-  ' a , :g: f f- 

* * — m~ — p— T — » -m  hr 

-1 1? tf— tf 1?  2 1? t? 1* fcr 


ter  - ri  - ble  quick  sword:  His  truth  is  march-ing  on. 


"£  t?  t?  x X 


A 

Chorus. 


B 


* S 


S S s=*=El 


—I r 


—IS |S 

-•  — £: 


— S-r- 


Glo-  ry,  glo-ry,  hal-  le  - lu  - jah!  Glo-  ry,  glo-rjq  hal-le  - lu  - jah! 


V W“ 


•*-  ■ ■ 

*•  f * 

r'F-^-q 

— >> — 

200 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


DS-J'-iV 

BgjE 


_j — 

* —m 


- =*-- 


S * S 

Glo  - ry,  glo-rv,  hal-le  - hi  - jah!  His  truth  is  marching  on. 

-ff— - L 


3i— *— |z— 

_*~1b  zz  to  — pGrier 

-p — p — 1?— P— S — I — 


: m§  i ' • i- 


r- 


— Battle  Hymn  of  the  Republic  : Words  by  J.  W.  Howe. 


The  same  methods  are  exemplified  also  in  forms  of  art 
appealing  to  sight.  The  earliest  kinds  of  ornamentation, 
as  we  can  see  it  to-day  in  the  rude  lines  scratched  on 
ancient  pottery,  are  merely  series  of  repetitions  ; and  in  our 
own  times  the  recurrence  of  similar  outlines,  however 
insignificant,  when  they  are  marked  or  worked  near  the 
edge  of  a piece  of  wood  or  cloth,  gives  it  a border,  and 
we  admire  it  the  more  on  account  of  the  border.  Or,  if 
we  ornament  with  more  elaborate  figures,  it  is  mainly  the 
repetition  of  them  that  causes  them  to  be  attractive.  Take 
the  Vitruvian  scroll,  as  it  is  called,  so  frequently  found  in 


FIG.  62.— VITRUVIAN  SCROLL. 


pottery,  goldsmith’s  work,  and  architecture,  Fig.  62, 
or  the  Greek  fret,  Fig.  63. 


FIQ.  63—  GREEK  FRET. 


The  charm  of  these  lies  in  the  repetition.  In  connec- 
tion with  such  ornamentation  we  often  find  alternation 


REPETITION , ALTERATION , AND  ALTERNATION. 


201 


too.  See  this  section  of  an  ornamented  doorway  from 
Khorsbad,  Chaldea,  Fig.  64.  In  the  older  Greek 
temples,  the  Doric  frieze  was  made  up  of  a series  of 


FIQ.  64.— SECTION  OF  ORNAMENTED  DOORWAY,  FROM  KHORSBAD,  CHALDEA. 


triglyphs  alternating  with  metopes,  either  containing 
plane  surfaces  or  else  chaplets,  or  paterse,  as  in  Fig.  65. 
So  in  the  pavements,  walls,  and  ceilings,  both  of  ancient 


■■TT'i  i ’ 1 n rr  n 1 — — ~ - n iiiniiu.T-iniif--:J  1 


and  modern  architecture,  we  often  come  upon  repetitions 
and  alternations  of  color,  usually  of  white  and  red,  or  blue 
and  red.  The  different  ways,  in  fact,  in  which  these 


202 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


methods  of  ornamentation  may  be  used  in  decorative  art, 
are  almost  infinite. 

In  order  to  apply  the  same  methods  to  painting,  it  is 
not  necessary  for  the  artist  to  discover  and  imitate  things 
actually  repeated  in  the  external  world,  any  more  than  it 
is  necessary  for  the  poet  to  hear  rhythmical  language  in 
order  to  arrange  in  rhythm  his  representations  of  what  he 
hears.  We  might  indeed,  derive  some  pleasure  from  a 
picture,  as  we  should  from  a view  in  nature,  of  a row  of 
trees  lining  an  avenue,  or  of  a company  of  soldiers  march- 
ing in  procession.  But  a scene  like  this,  unless  it  in- 
cluded other  things,  introducing  variety  into  it,  would 
seem  artificial;  inasmuch  as  it  would  be  a copy — less  of 
anything  natural  than — of  something  already  put  into 
artificial  conditions  by  man.  A more  successful  kind  of 
repetition  to  be  copied  in  a picture,  would  be  like  that 
found  where  images  of  trees  and  shrubs  are  reflected 
from  the  surfaces  of  rivers,  showing  the  same  things 
repeated  indeed,  but  with  some  alteration  and  alternation. 
Or,  instead  of  being  mirrored,  the  trees  might  be  re- 
peated with  effects  equally  satisfactory  if,  in  their  shapes, 
sizes,  and  positions,  there  were  just  sufficient  alteration 
to  give  them  the  individuality  that  is  found  in  nature. 
But  the  effects  of  repetition , for  reasons  already  men- 
tioned on  page  150,  are  often  secured  merely  by  artis- 
tic composition;  i.  e.,  by  arranging  objects,  not  alike  in 
every  regard,  in  such  ways  that  certain  of  their  features 
are  seen  to  be  alike  in  some  regards,  or  at  least  to  suggest 
this  likeness.  The  repetition  thus  introduced  differs  little, 
if  at  all,  as  will  be  noticed,  from  parallelism.  But,  as 
has  been  said  before,  all  these  art-methods  are  very  closely 
connected,  being  all  developed  from  similar  principles. 

It  is  easy  enough  to  perceive  how,  in  an  ideal  work,  com- 


REPETITION , ALTERATION , ^iVZ>  ALTERNATION.  203 


posed  like  Gerome’s  “ Pollice  Verso,”  repetitions  could  be 
introduced  at  will.  But  it  is  difficult  to  understand  how 
the  same  can  be  done  in  painting  a landscape,  especially 
if  copied  from  some  definite  scene.  The  problem, 
according  to  Ruskin  (“Elements  of  Drawing,”  Letter 
III  .),  was  solved  by  Turner  in  a painting  of  the  “Old  Bridge 
on  the  Rhine  at  Coblentz,”  in  this  way.  Three  boats  and 
one  raft  were  placed  in  the  river,  each  holding  two  persons. 
Besides  this,  the  distant  single  spires  of  the  city  were  so 


FIQ.  66. -OLD  BRIDGE  AT  COBLENTZ.— TU RNER. 

See  pages  48,  159,  174,  203. 

grouped  that,  in  three  cases,  two  of  these  spires  taken 
together  (in  each  instance  a large  one  and  a small  one, 
introducing  thus,  as  will  be  noticed,  the  principle  of  alter- 
natioti)  looked  like  repetitions  of  one  another  and  of  two 
others  on  the  bridge,  the  larger  of  which  latter  was  the 
principal  object  in  the  foreground.  Although  there  is 
really  no  one  place  from  which  the  spires  of  the  city  can 
be  seen  in  positions  to  produce  these  effects,  Ruskin 
praises  the  painter  for  having  the  ingenuity  to  arrange 
his  picture  as  if  he  had  seen  them  thus.  See  Fig.  66. 


204 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


Color,  too,  may  be  applied  so  as  to  exemplify  these 
methods.  The  effects  of  tone  so  much  admired  in  a paint- 
ing, effects  produced  where  the  whole  of  a scene  pre- 
sented seems  to  be  dominated  or  pervaded  by  a similar 
hue,  are  largely  due  to  constant  repetitions , and,  in  some 
cases,  under  the  influence  of  light  and  shade,  of  altera- 
tions and  even  alternations  of  the  tints  and  shades. 

In  sculpture  these  methods  are  necessarily  included  in 
almost  every  faithful  copy  of  that  which  is  seen  in 
nature;  yet,  in  this  art,  too,  there  are  opportunities  for  a 
purely  original  use  of  them,  especially  in  the  arrange- 
ments of  folds  of  drapery  and  of  different  figures  in 
groups.  How  impossible  it  would  be  to  give  attractive- 
ness to  the  ideas  embodied  in  the  groups  of  the  “ Laocoon,” 
Fig.  75,  page  226,  and  of  “ Niobe  and  her  Children,”  Fig. 
45,  page  146,  were  it  not  for  innumerable  repetitions  in  the 
expressions  of  the  countenances  and  in  the  adjustments  of 
limbs  and  drapery  ! “ When  we  survey  the  ancient  monu- 
ments of  Egypt,”  says  Chas.  Blanc  in  the  introduction  to 
his  “ Art  in  Ornament  and  Dress,”  “ abounding  as  they  do 
in  colored  reliefs  or  surface  paintings,  we  are  often  arrested 
by  a group  of  figures  in  simultaneous  and  rhythmic  action, 
all  executing  the  same  movement,  the  same  gesture,  and 
the  same  sign.  When  this  action  is  not  purely  material, 
such  as  leading  animals,  thrashing  out  corn,  or  carrying 
bricks ; when  this  action,  I say,  is  in  harmony  with  the 
sentiment  ; when  it  expresses,  for  example,  worship  01- 
prayer,  or  the  humility  of  a band  of  weeping  captives  pros- 
trating themselves  at  the  feet  of  the  conqueror,  their  heads 
raised  to  him  in  supplication,  this  rhythmic  movement 
partakes  of  a religious  character,  and  the  repetition  of  the 
gesture  seems  to  bring  it  within  the  pale  of  sacred  rites. 
The  spectacle  becomes  solemn,  nay,  almost  sublime.” 


REPETITION , ALTERATION , ALTERNATION.  20 5 


Architecture,  too,  in  all  its  most  successful  products,  is 
full  of  illustrations  of  these  methods.  When  applied  to 
forms,  they  constitute  the  main  element  determining 


FIG.  67.— CHURCH  OF  ST.  NIZ1ER,  LYONS. 

Seepages  22,  1S9,  206,  208,  261. 

what  is  called  a style  of  architecture;  when  applied  to 
spaces,  the  main  element  determining  what  is  called  pro- 


20  6 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


portion.  They  manifest  their  presence,  too,  in  a majority 
of  the  appearances  of  buildings  with  which  we  are 
most  familiar  ; e.  g.,  in  rows  of  like  columns  with  like 
flutings,  in  like  mouldings  and  carvings  of  entablatures, 
some  of  which  have  just  been  noticed  ; in  walls  strength- 
ened by  like  buttresses  and  pierced  at  like  intervals  by 
windows  of  like  shapes  and  sizes,  as  well  as  in  cappings  of 
openings  and  in  pediments  of  gables  and  roofs,  wherever 
any  large  numbers  of  these  describe  like  angles. 

The  requirements  of  these  methods,  in  fact,  even  more 
than  those  of  congruity  mentioned  on  page  146,  underlie 
the  principle  that  different  styles  should  not  be  mixed  ; 
as  they  are,  for  instance,  in  this  “Church  of  St.  Nizier, 
Lyons,”  Fig.  67,  page  205.  They  base  the  principle,  more- 
over, upon  rational  grounds,  which  is  not  done  when  it  is 
said  or  implied  that  to  observe  it,  is  to  do  as  the  Greek  or 
Gothic  builders  did.  We  are  under  no  obligations  to  do 
as  these  did.  The  world  may  improve  in  art  as  in  other 
things.  Yet,  as  every  thinker  knows,  all  improvements 
are  in  the  nature  of  developments  that  are  made  in  strict 
accordance  with  fixed  laws.  We  have  found  that  scientific 
classification,  as  well  as  artistic  construction,  demands  that 
like  be  put  with  like.  This  demand  is  beyond  the  reach 
of  any  human  power  that  may  seek  to  change  it.  It  exists 
in  the  constitution  of  the  mind.  No  architect  can  dis- 
regard it,  and  produce  a building  satisfactory  to  men  in 
general.  No  building  has  ever  obtained  and  preserved  a 
reputation  as  a work  of  art,  in  which  this  requirement  has 
been  neglected.  As  a proof  of  this  statement,  as  well  as 
an  evidence  of  the  universality  with  which  a principle  can 
be  applied  when  giving  expression  to  a truth  that  is  really 
fundamental,  notice  not  only  “ Salisbury  ” (Fig.  68,  page 
207),  which  is  usually  considered  the  most  nearly  perfect 


REPETITION , ALTERATION,  AND  ALTERNATION.  20 7 


of  the  English  cathedrals,  but  the  classic  buildings  in  all 
styles  represented  in  Figs.  69,  page  208;  1,  page  15;  2, 
page  1 7;  3,  page  19;  23,  page  78;  31,  page  88;  32,  page 
89;  42,  page  123,  and  97,  page  292.  The  true  reason, 
therefore,  for  not  introducing  the  forms  of  Greek,  Roman- 


FIG.  68. — SALISBURY  CATHEDRAL,  FROM  THE  NORTHWEST. 

See  pages  18,  76,  90,  186,  190,  206,  261. 

esque,  and  Gothic  architecture  into  the  same  building,  is 
that,  as  a rule,  such  a course  is  fatal  to  unity  of  effect. 
These  principal  styles  and  some  of  the  subordinate  styles 
developed  from  them  differ  so  essentially  that  to  blend 
them  is  to  cause  confusion  in  the  form  where  the  mind 


2C)S 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


demands  intelligibility,  which,  so  far  as  our  present  line 
of  thought  is  applicable,  means  something  in  which  many 
repetitions  of  similar  appearances  reveal  that  all  arc  parts 
of  the  same  whole.  Buildings  in  which  there  are  very 
few,  if  any,  forms  alike,  such  as  we  find  exemplified  in 


FIG.  69.  — POUTOU  TEMPLE,  NINGPO,  CHINA. 

See  pages  18,  124,  207. 

Fig.  67  in  this  chapter,  Figs.  4,  page  21,  and  5,  page  23, 
and  60,  page  191,  as  well  as  in  too  many  of  those  so 
popular  in  our  own  day,  said  to  be  erected  in  the  style  of 
Queen  Anne,  are  not,  whatever  else  they  may  be,  works 
of  art. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


MASSING  OR  BREADTH. 


Connection  between  the  Methods  next  on  our  List  and  those  already  Con- 
sidered— Massing — Its  Object  is  to  Produce  Cumulative  or  General 
Effects — In  Poetry,  by  an  Accumulation  of  the  Effects  of  Sense  and 
Sound — of  Sound  alone — Connection  between  Massing  and  Central- 
Point  as  Illustrated  in  the  Climax — Massing  in  Music — In  Painting:  the 
Meaning  of  Breadth  in  this  Art  as  Restricted  to  Effects  of  Light  and 
Shade — Means  Used  by  the  Artist  in  Producing  these — Not  necessarily 
One  Mass  of  Light  in  One  Composition  : Three  Masses — Breadth  and 
Massing  Analogous — -The  same  Principles  Applied  to  Colors  and  Out- 
lines— Massing  in  Sculpture — In  Architecture : By  Outlines  and  by 
Light  and  Shade. 

/^S  was  indicated  in  the  list  of  the  methods  on  page  131, 
massing  is  a further  development  in  form  of  the 
same  tendency  that  leads  to  comparison , principality,  con- 
gruity,  central-point,  and  repetition,  and  is  usually  con- 
nected with  them  ; intcrspersion  is  similarly  related  to  con- 
trast, subordination,  incongruity,  setting,  and  alteration ; 
complication  is  related  to  counteraction,  complement,  com- 
prehensiveness, parallelism,  and  alternation  ; and  continuity 
is  related  to  grouping,  organic-form,  and  symmetry. 

Inasmuch  as  massing  is  the  most  important  of  the 
methods  now  to  be  considered,  as  well  as  because  it  must 
be  treated  at  some  length,  what  is  to  be  said  in  this  chapter 
will  be  confined  to  it.  By  the  word  itself,  as  also  by  consist- 
ency, which  is  used  synonymously  with  it,  artists  mean  the 
bringing  together  of  repeated  effects,  so  that  in  any  given 


14 


209 


210 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


composition  those  that  are  alike  in  one  regard  are  in  one 
place,  and  those  that  are  alike  in  another  regard  are  in 
another  place.  Thus  defined,  it  is  evident  that,  while  an 
aid  both  to  principality  and  central-point , massing  is  dis- 
tinctly different  from  either.  It  may  involve,  and  usually 
necessitates,  a number  of  exactly  similar  features,  which 
is  not  the  case  either  when  one  of  these  has  principality 
or  when  many  are  grouped  in  such  a way  as  to  be  brought 
to  a central-point.  It  is  evident,  too,  that,  as  it  has  been 
defined,  massing  is  a method  that  may  be  applied  in  art 
to  the  arrangements  of  other  factors  besides  those  of  light 
and  shade,  to  which  it  is  sometimes  limited.  Whenever, 
for  any  reason,  a large  number  of  factors  alike  in  one 
regard — if  of  sounds,  in  time,  pitch,  loudness,  or  quality  ; 
if  of  sights,  in  size,  outline,  color  or  light,— are  separated 
from  other  factors,  and  crowded  together  by  themselves, 
there  we  have  massing. 

Of  course,  its  object,  as  thus  explained,  whether  applied 
to  a part  or  to  a whole  of  the  like  factors  of  a composition, 
is  to  produce  a cumulative  or  general  effect — an  effect 
which  could  not  be  produced  by  any  or  all  of  the  factors 
if  not  used  conjointly.  All  the  methods,  too,  of  which 
we  have  been  treating  have  more  or  less  influence  in 
securing  this  result.  But  all  of  them  together  would  fail 
of  efficiency  without  massing.  In  fact,  we  might  define 
this  by  saying  that  it  is  such  a method  of  presenting 
details  as  to  cause  others  to  judge  of  them  en  masse.  In 
the  main,  however,  it  emphasizes  the  features  and  the  con- 
cepts represented  in  them  in  the  same  way  and  for  the 
same  reason  as  repetition,  of  which  it  is  an  intensified 
phase. 

Poetic  massing  involves  characteristics  with  which  we 
are  all  familiar.  Notice,  in  the  following,  how  both  sense 


MASSING  OR  BREADTH. 


2 1 1 


and  sound  contribute  in  a cumulative  way  to  the  general 
impression. 

A plague  upon  them  ! wherefore  should  I curse  them  ? 

Would  curses  kill  as  doth  the  mandrake’s  groan, 

I would  invent  as  bitter-searching  terms, 

As  curst,  as  harsh,  and  horrible  to  hear, 

Delivered  strongly  through  my  fixed  teeth. 

With  full  as  many  signs  of  deadly  hate, 

As  lean  faced  Envy  in  her  loathsome  cave  ; 

My  tongue  should  stumble  in  mine  earnest  words  ; 

Mine  eyes  should  sparkle  like  the  beaten  flint ; 

My  hair  be  fixed  on  end,  as  one  distract  ; 

Ay,  every  joint  should  seem  to  curse  and  ban  ; 

And  even  now  my  burdened  heart  would  break, 

Should  I not  curse  them.  Poison  be  their  drink  ! 

Gall,  worse  than  gall  the  daintiest  that  they  taste  ! 

Their  sweetest  shade,  a grove  of  cypress  trees  ! 

Their  chiefest  prospects,  murdering  basilisks  ! 

Their  softest  touch,  as  smart  as  lizards’  stings  ! 

Their  music  frightful  as  the  serpent’s  hiss  ! 

And  boding  screech-owls  make  the  concert  full  ! 

— H.  VI.,  Pt.  II.,  iii.,  2 : Shakespeare. 

In  the  following  comical  enumeration  by  Southey  of  the 
troubles  assailing  Napoleon  on  his  return  from  Moscow, 
the  same  effect  is  produced  almost  exclusively  by  sounds. 

The  Russians  they  stuck  close  to  him 
All  on  the  road  from  Moscow. 

There  was  Tormazow  and  Jemalow, 

And  all  the  others  that  end  in  ow  ; 

Milarodovitch  and  Jaladovitch, 

And  Karatschkowitch, 

And  all  the  others  that  end  in  itch  ; 

Schamscheff,  Souchosaneff, 

And  Schepaleff, 

And  all  the  others  that  end  in  eff  ; 

Wasiltschikoff,  KostomarofT, 

And  Tchoglokoff, 

And  all  the  others  that  end  in  off  ; 


212 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


Rajeffsky,  and  Novereffsky, 

And  Rieffsky, 

And  all  the  others  that  end  in  effsky  : 

Oscharoffsky  and  Rostoffsky, 

And  all  the  others  that  end  in  offsky  ; 

And  I’latoff  he  played  them  off, 

And  Shouvaloff  he  shovelled  them  off, 

And  Markoff  he  marked  them  off, 

And  Krossnoff  he  crossed  them  off, 

And  Tuchkoff  he  touched  them  off, 

And  Boraskoff  he  bored  them  off, 

And  Kutousoff  lie  cut  them  off, 

And  Parenzoff  he  pared  them  off, 

And  Worronzoff  he  worried  them  off, 

And  Doctoroff  he  doctored  them  off 
And  Rodionoff  he  flogged  them  off  ; 

And  last,  of  all,  an  admiral  came, 

A terrible  man  with  a terrible  name, 

A name  which  you  all  know  by  sight  very  well, 

But  which  no  one  can  speak,  and  no  one  can  spell. 

They  stuck  close  to  Nap  with  all  their  might  ; 

They  were  on  the  left  and  on  the  right, 

Behind  and  before,  and  by  day  and  by  night  ; 

He  would  rather  parlez  vous  than  fight  ; 

But  he  looked  white,  and  he  looked  blue, 

Morbleu  ! Parbleu! 

When  parlez  vous  no  more  would  do, 

For  they  remembered  Moscow. 

• — The  March  to  Moscow  : Southey. 

Sometimes,  in  fact  usually,  where  there  is  massing , 
there  is  also  a climax,  in  which — as  indicated  on  page 
163, — everything  is  brought  to  a central-point , e.  g.  : 

What  a piece  of  work  is  man  ! How  noble  in  reason  ! How  infinite  in 
faculties  ! In  form  and  moving  how  express  and  admirable  ! In  action  how 
like  an  angel  ! In  apprehension  how  like  a god  ! 

- — Hamlet , ii. , 2 : Shakespeare. 

In  such  cases,  the  analogy  is  complete  between  the 
effect  of  the  central  expression  about  which  other  expres- 


MASS/JVG  OR  BREADTH. 


213 


sions  are  massed  in  poetry,  and  of  the  centre  of  interest 
about  which  color  or  light  is  massed  in  painting. 

In  music,  massing  fulfils  functions  equally  important.  It 
is  this,  as  exemplified  in  the  accumulations  of  the  same 
notes,  chords,  or  instruments,  that  enables  us  to  recognize 
the  peculiarities  distinguishing  passages  that  are  loud  or 
soft,  forcible  or  light,  gay  or  pathetic  ; while  without  it  and 
its  reiterated  repetitions,  the  musical  cadence  or  climax,  as 
heard  at  the  ends  of  compositions  or  of  prominent  move- 
ments, would  produce  little  impression. 

The  terms  massing  and  also  breadth , which  latter  seems 
to  indicate  that  which  is  the  result  of  the  former,  are 
applied  more  commonly  to  effects  in  the  arts  that  are 
seen  than  in  those  that  are  heard.  But,  as  was  said  a 
moment  ago,  it  sometimes  seems  to  be  supposed  that  both 
terms  should  be  used  to  refer  only  to  those  effects  of 
light  and  shade  whereby  bright  features  are  put  with 
bright,  and  dark  with  dark.  As  a result  of  such  arrange- 
ments, a breadth  of  distance  seems  to  separate  the  objects 
in  light  from  those  in  shade,  and  a corresponding  breadth 
of  view  seems  to  be  afforded  him  who  sees  them  ; hence 
the  term  breadth  sometimes  applied  to  these  effects. 
Light  and  shade  cannot  be  discussed  fully  except  in  con- 
nection with  color.  But  so  far  as  their  use  illustrates 
massing,  something  needs  to  be  said  of  them  here  ; and 
that  they  do  illustrate  this,  and  are,  therefore,  in  analogy 
with  it  as  produced  by  other  elements  of  both  sight  and 
sound,  no  better  proof  needs  to  be  furnished  than  the 
statements  that  follow. 

In  securing  the  effects  of  breadth , the  artist  does  not 
arbitrarily  make  objects  bright  or  dim  in  order  to  have 
them  correspond  to  the  bright  or  dim  parts  of  the  pic- 
ture in  which  he  wishes  to  place  them.  He  exercises  in- 


214 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


genuity  in  arranging  his  materials  so  as  to  bring  into  the 
right  relations  objects  that  in  nature  are  bright  or  dim,  or 
that  can  be  made  so  in  nature  by  the  presence  or  absence 
of  an  illuminating  agent.  Besides  this,  too,  he  arranges 
the  light  so  as  to  fall  where  it  will  prove  most  effective. 
In  Titian’s  “ Entombment,”  it  is  made  to  illumine  a figure 
in  the  foreground,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  the  sun 
is  represented  as  setting  in  the  background.  The  painter 
produces  the  effect  by  supposing  the  sun’s  rays  to  be  re- 
flected from  a cloud  in  advance  of  the  field  of  vision. 
Notice  also  what  was  said  on  page  72  of  the  way  in 
which  the  light  is  massed  by  Rubens  and  Correggio,  the 
one  in  the  “ Descent  from  the  Cross  ” (Fig.  16,  page  73), 
and  the  other  in  the  “ Holy  Night,”  Fig.  70,  page  215. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed,  however,  that  in  any  given 
picture,  there  may  not  be  more  than  one  place  where  there 
is  light  and  one  place  where  there  are  shadows,  although 
in  the  paintings  of  Correggio  and  Rembrandt,  who  develop- 
ed most  fully  the  possibilities  of  light  and  shade,  or  of  chi- 
aroscuro, as  it  is  called,  this  plan  was  usually  followed. 
According  to  Reynolds  (Note  xxxix  on  “ The  Art  of  Paint- 
ing  ”),  there  may  be  three  masses  of  light,  one  of  which, 
however,  he  would  make  more  prominent  than  the  other 
two,  thus  causing  all  three  together  to  fulfil  the  methods 
of  both  principality  and  balance.  Titian,  in  order  to  im- 
press the  fact  that  every  picture  representing  the  effects 
of  the  atmosphere  must  indicate  not  only  the  general 
influence  of  the  light  and  shade  on  all  the  objects  depicted 
considered  together,  but  on  each  specific  object  consid- 
ered by  itself,  is  said  to  have  pointed  to  a bunch  of  grapes; 
and  shown  how  the  bunch  considered  as  a whole  has  a light 
and  a dark  side,  and  also  how  each  grape  considered  by 
itself  has  a light  and  a dark  side.  The  effects  resulting  from 


FIG.  70.— THE  HOLY  NIGHT.— CORREGGIO. 

See  pages  16,  72>  80,  I2°»  190*  2I4»  257* 


21 6 THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM . 

each  of  these  conditions  render  the  representation  of  both 
difficult.  Nor  can  they  be  represented  at  all  except  in  the 
degree  in  which  the  general  effect,  which  is  the  one  con- 
nected with  massing,  is  treated  as  the  more  important  of 
the  two. 

From  what  has  been  said,  it  is  evident  that  the  effect  of 
breadth,  as  thus  produced,  is  identical  with  that  of  the  ac- 
cumulation of  repeated  characteristics  which  results  from 
massing  in  poetry  and  music.  The  artistic  end  in  view, 
too,  is  the  same.  By  it,  the  unity,  comparison,  principality, 
congruity,  central-point,  as  well  as  repetitions  of  the  product 
are  all  brought  out  more  clearly.  “ Pictures,”  says  S.  P. 
Long  in  his  “Art,  Its  Laws,  and  the  Reasons  for  Them,” 
Essay  VI.,  “ Pictures  possessing  breadth  of  the  general 
light  and  dark  or  shade  are  not  only  very  effective,  but 
they  likewise  give  great  repose  to  the  eye  ; whereas,  where 
the  lights  and  darks  are  in  small  portions,  and  much 
divided,  the  eye  is  disturbed  and  the  mind  rendered  un- 
easy, especially  if  one  is  anxious  to  understand  every 
object  in  a composition,  as  it  is  painful  to  the  ear,  if  we 
are  anxious  to  hear  what  is  said  in  company,  where  many 
are  talking  at  the  same  time.  Hence  . . . the  reason  why 
portraits  make  a more  pleasing  picture  when  but  few  ob- 
jects are  introduced  into  the  composition  than  when  the 
person  is  covered  with  frills  and  ruffles,  and  the  back- 
ground stuffed  like  a ‘ curiosity  shop.’  Such  an  arrange- 
ment cuts  up  the  lights  and  darks  and  destroys  the 
breadth  ” — a statement  applicable,  as  will  be  noticed,  not 
only  to  massing  but  also  to  inter spersion,  its  opposite, 
which  is  to  be  considered  in  the  next  chapter.  Concern- 
ing the  same  subject  Ruskin  says  in  his  “ Elements  of 
Drawing,”  Letter  III.:  “Such  compositions  possess 

higher  sublimity  than  those  which  are  more  mingled  in 


MASSING  OR  BREADTH. 


217 


their  elements.  They  tell  a special  tale  and  summon  a 
definite  state  of  feeling.  We  have  not  in  each  gray  color 
set  against  sombre,  and  sharp  forms  against  sharp,  and 
low  passages  against  low ; but  we  have  the  bright  picture 
with  its  single  ray  of  relief ; the  stern  picture  with  only 
one  tender  group  of  lines  ; the  soft  and  calm  picture  with 
only  one  rock  angle  at  its  flank,  and  so  on.” 

So  much  for  the  effects  of  massing  as  produced  by  ar- 
rangements of  light  and  shade.  Now  in  what  do  we  find 
an  analogy  for  this  method  as  produced  by  colors  or  out- 
lines ? As  applied  to  colors,  the  question  hardly  needs 
an  answer.  In  any  picture  not  delineated  in  white  and 
black,  light  and  shade  are  themselves  represented  by 
colors,  and  the  light  colors  necessarily  go  with  the  one 
and  the  dark  with  the  other.  But  how  is  it  with  outlines  ? 
Suppose  that  a picture  is  composed  of  human  figures.  If 
certain  of  these  be  grouped  together,  though  only  through 
the  use  of  outlines,  so  as  to  emphasize  their  sizes,  attitudes, 
and,  because  in  the  foreground,  their  relative  influence  as 
compared  with  the  rest  of  the  composition,  will  they  not, 
irrespective  of  any  effects  of  light  or  color,  attract  atten- 
tion and,  very  likely,  absorb  it  ? And  in  recalling  the  pic- 
ture, shall  we  not  necessarily  think  chiefly  of  these  figures 
and  of  the  thoughts  that  they  represent,  rather  than  of 
anything  else  connected  with  it  ? But  is  not  this  effect 
produced  by  the  massing  of  outlines  identical  with  that 
produced  by  the  massing  of  light  in  breadth?  Seethe 
figures  of  the  gladiator  and  his  antagonist,  in  Gerome’s 
“ Pollice  Verso,”  Fig.  26,  page  81. 

With  such  a conception  of  massing , as  produced  by 
means  of  outline,  we  can  see  how  it  may  be  used  in 
sculpture  ; and  how,  when  so  used,  it  may  concentrate 
attention  upon,  say,  the  human  figures  or  parts  of  them  that 


2 1 8 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


FIG.  71 . — GATE  OF  THE  PALACE, 
See  pages  76,  219. 


NANCY. 


are  represented,  rather  than  upon  the  drapery  or  pedestal, 
or  any  architectural  forms  surrounding  them.  Certain 

kinds  of  sculpture, 
too,  especially  the 
bas-relief,  afford  the 
same  possibilities 
for  effects  of  light 
and  shade,  and 
thereforeof  breadth, 
as  produce  d by 
these,  that  painting 
does.  See  an  illus- 
tration of  massing 
produced  in  both 
ways  in  the  “ Mith- 
ras Stabbing  the 
Bull,”  Fig.  54,  page 
179. 

I n architecture, 
we  have  an  exact 
analogy  to  the  ef- 
fects of  massing  in 
some  of  the  older 
castles  a n d even 
churches  of  Europe, 
where  all  the  decora- 
tion connected  with 
the  forms  is  con- 
centrated about  a 
tower,  or  gateway, 
or  door,  or  all  of 


these  together,  on  each  side  of  which  is  merely  a wall 
entirely  blank  or  pierced  with  non-ornamental  openings. 


MASSING  OR  BREADTH. 


219 


See  the  “ Gateway  of  the  Palace  at  Nancy,”  Fig.  71, 
page  218.  What  could  more  closely  resemble  the  im- 
pression produced  by  some  of  Rembrandt’s  pictures  with 
their  blaze  of  light  in  the  centre  and  their  gloom  of 
shadow  surrounding  it  ? Besides  this,  in  architecture  as 
in  sculpture,  there  is  an  opportunity  for  massing  as  pro- 
duced by  light  and  shade.  “ I do  not  believe,”  says 
Ruskin,  in  his  “ Seven  Lamps  of  Architecture,”  chap,  iii., 
“ that  ever  any  building  was  truly  great  unless  it  had 
mighty  masses,  vigorous  and  deep,  of  shadow  mingled 
with  its  surface.  And  among  the  first  habits  that  a young 
architect  should  learn  is  that  of  thinking  in  shadow,  not 
looking  at  a design  in  its  miserable  liney  skeleton,  but 
conceiving  it  as  it  will  be  when  dawn  lights  on  it,  and  the 
dusk  leaves  it.  . All  that  he  has  to  do  must  be 

done  by  spaces  of  light  and  darkness  ; and  his  business  is 
to  see  that  the  one  is  broad  and  bold  enough  not  to  be 
swallowed  up  by  twilight,  and  the  other  deep  enough  not 
to  be  dried  like  a shallow  pool  by  a noon-day  sun.” 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


INTERSPERSION,  COMPLICATION,  AND  CONTINUITY. 

Interspersion  in  Nature  and  Art — Complication  in  Nature  and  Art — Its  Re- 
lation  to  Order — Continuity — Should  not  Disregard  the  Requirements 
of  Variety  • — Illustrations  — Interspersion,  and  Complication  in 
Poetry — In  the  Sense — Interspersion  in  the  Form — Variety  without  In- 
terspersion— Complication  in  the  Form — Continuity  and  Drift — Inter- 
spersion, Complication,  and  Continuity  in  Music — The  Two  Former  in 
Painting,  Sculpture,  and  Architecture — Continuity  in  these  Latter  Arts 
— Present  in  Connection  with  Interspersion  and  Complication. 

T7ROM  what  has  been  said,  the  close  connection  be- 
tween massing  and  both  principality  and  central- 
point  is  at  once  apparent.  It  is  apparent  also  that,  if  there 
be  no  massing  at  all  in  an  art-work;  in  other  words,  if  like 
features  be  not  grouped  together  but  scattered,  so  that 
the  like  are  interspersed  with  the  unlike  in  almost  equal 
quantities,  then  the  main  object  of  composition,  which  is  to 
reduce  factors  to  unity  and  order,  so  as  to  render  them 
aesthetically  intelligible,  is  not  accomplished.  At  the 
same  time,  interspersion,  like  variety  and  confusion  and 
their  kindred  methods,  is  one  of  the  characteristics  of 
nature  ; and  because  of  this,  and  because  it  clearly  con- 
trasts with  such  effects  as  are  most  distinctively  artistic, 
it  always  gives  some  suggestion  of  naturalness  to  a prod- 
uct in  which  it  appears.  Loosely  constructed  sentences 
and  whole  compositions,  like  Emerson’s  “ Essays,”  say,  as 
contrasted  with  Everett’s  “ Orations  ” ; or  like  Crabb’s 


220 


IN  TER  SPER  SION , COMPLICATION , CONTINUITY.  221 


“ Parish  Register  ” as  contrasted  with  Milton's  “ Paradise 
Lost  ” ; or  like  Sullivan’s  “ Patience  ” as  contrasted  with 
Wagner’s  “ Tannhauser  ” ; or  like  almost  any  Nocturne  as 
contrasted  with  a March,  or  Variation  as  contrasted  with 
a Symphony — all  the  former  of  these,  owing  to  the  way  in 
which,  in  the  absence  of  cumulative  or  massing  methods, 
unforetokened  and  unexpected  effects  are  interspersed 


FIG.  72.— CHATEAU  AT  MONTIGNY. 

See  pages  31,  37,  77,  78,  124,  222,  235. 

throughout,  have  a peculiar  charm  of  their  own.  So  in 
the  arts  of  sight,  the  blending  of  all  sorts  of  forms,  natural 
and  human,  in  hill  and  valley,  foliage  and  rock,  land 
and  water,  or  shade  and  sunshine,  robed,  as  in  some 
paintings,  in  all  possible  colors,  and  mixed,  as  in  some 
architecture,  like  that  characterizing  the  street  fronts  of 
certain  American  cities,  or  the  diversified  roofs  and  tur- 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


222 

rets  of  certain  villas— these  too,  presenting  what  we  term 
a picturesque  effect,  owe  their  main  attractiveness  to  inter- 
spersion. 

Always  in  connection  with  this  effect,  however,  there 
needs  to  be,  as  in  the  “ Landscape  with  Water,”  by  Corot, 
Fig.  73,  page  223,  a liberal  application  of  certain  of  the 
other  methods  of  composition  ; elsewise  the  result  is  not 
msthetically  satisfactory.  For  instance,  in  the  “ Chateau  at 
Montigny,”  Fig.  72,  page  221,  we  have  interspersion , but  it 
is  modified  so  little  by  other  counteracting  effects  that,  as 
a whole,  the  building  has  no  unity.  It  is  picturesque,  but 
this  is  all  that  can  be  said  in  its  favor.  When  a certain 
degree  of  massing  is  joined  with  interspersion  so  as  to 
cause  the  interspersed  quantities  or  qualities  to  reappear 
at  approximately  regular  intervals,  in  ways  according 
with  complement , counteraction , balance,  parallelism,  and 
alternation,  we  have  what  is  understood  by  the  term  com- 
plication.  This  word,  like  parallelism , continuity,  and  many 
others  used  in  art,  is  borrowed  from  one  indicating 
relationships  of  lines.  It  means  a folding  or  blending  to- 
gether primarily  of  these,  but,  secondarily,  of  any  forms. 
Evidently,  too,  it  involves,  like  massing,  the  presence  in 
large  quantities  of  the  features  to  which  it  is  applied.  In 
fact,  the  greater  the  number  of  themes  or  phrases,  say,  in 
a symphony,  the  more  complicated,  as  a rule,  are  its  move- 
ments ; and  the  greater  the  number  of  trees  or  rocks  in  a 
landscape,  the  more  complicated,  as  a rule,  are  the  factors 
composing  it. 

But  while  this  is  true,  these  factors,  if  complicated  in 
an  artistic  manner,  may  always  be  presented  in  a certain 
order.  We  shall  recognize  this  by  recalling  many  of  the 
patterns  of  our  carpets  and  wall-papers,  imitated  or 
modelled  after  those  of  the  Orientals.  (See  Fig.  74,  page 


FIQ.  73— LANDSCAPE  WITH  WATER.— COROT. 

See  pages  118,  156,  172,'  174,  222.  234. 


224 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


225,  also  Fig.  9,  page  38).  “ When,”  says  Charles  Blanc, 

in  his  “ Art  in  Ornament  and  Dress,”  “ the  surface  orna- 
mented according  to  Arabian  taste  has  no  dominant  subject 
indicated  by  its  isolation  or  by  its  color,  the  spectator 
has  only  before  him  an  assemblage  regularly  confused  of 
triangles,  lozenges,  wheels,  half-moons,  trefoils,  imperfect 
pentagons,  and  unfinished  meanders,  which  penetrate,  in- 
tersect, balance,  and  correspond  to  each  other,  approach 
to  retreat,  and  touch  one  moment  to  depart  the  next, 
and  dissolve  themselves  in  a labyrinth  without  outlet  and 
without  end.  The  Arabs  have  thus  realized  the  strange 
phenomenon  which  consists  in  producing  an  apparent  dis- 
order by  means  of  the  most  rigid  order.” 

If  we  allow  any  single  feature  entering  into  complication 
— one  of  its  lines,  say — to  be  interrupted,  as  it  must  be 
wherever  an  application  of  the  method  of  interspersion 
causes  another  line  to  cross  it,  or  another  feature  to 
take  its  place  ; that  which  conveys  to  us  an  impression 
of  unity  notwithstanding  interspersion  is  the  reappearance 
of  the  line  or  feature  that  has  disappeared.  This  necessi- 
tates continuity , — a term  that,  primarily,  signifies  a line, 
whether  straight  or  curved,  which  is  continuous.  But, 
secondarily,  it  signifies  any  kind  of  sound,  color,  or  figure 
that  is  continuous.  It  means,  therefore,  any  kind  of  con- 
tinuous repetition  or  massing.  Continuity  is  that  which 
makes  a composition  which  begins  in  one  way,  either  in 
time  or  space,  keep  on  in  the  same  way  to  its  end.  Just 
as  symmetry  tends  to  cause  all  parts  of  an  outlined  form 
to  be  equally  balanced  about  a common  centre,  continuity 
tends  to  cause  them  all  to  be  equally  connected  with  a 
common  mass  or  materiality. 

As  both  symmetry  and  continuity , however,  must,  like 
all  the  other  art-methods,  exist  in  connection  with  some 


FIQ.  74.— A WINDOW  IN  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

See  pages  37,  222,  236. 


226 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


variety , neither  should  be  absolutely  perfect.  Continuity 
of  repetition  and  massing  would,  indeed,  give  unity , and 
this  is  the  most  important  element  of  art-form  ; but  unity 
follows  more  clearly  the  laws  of  nature,  and  therefore  of 
art,  in  cases  where  it  is  slightly  opposed  by  the  tendencies 
underlying  interspersion  and  complication. 

For  this  reason, 
without  doubt,  artists 
have  a rule  that,  in  the 
use  of  lines  involving, 
in  the  ways  just  in- 
dicated, an  applica- 
tion of  the  method  of 
continuity , care  should 
be  taken  to  have  them 
not  absolutely  con- 
tinuous, but  inter- 
rupted at  intervals, 
and  then,  if  necessary, 
caught  up  and  ex- 
tended further  on.  If 
absolutely  continu- 
ous, they  suggest  de- 
grees of  mathematical 
fig.  75.— sculptured  qroup  of  the  laocoon.  exactness  and  of  mo- 
See  pages  120,  182  204,  235,  238.  notony  inconsistent 

with  a reproduction  of 
the  effects  of  nature.  A landscape  in  which  paths  or  trees 
or  bridges  are  arranged  in  uninterrupted  rows  as  geometri- 
cally regular  as  the  threads  of  a spider’s  web,  seems  to  be 
in  the  highest  degree  unnatural.  Even  though  a literal 
copy  of  some  park  in  actual  existence,  we  feel  like  blam- 
ing the  artist  for  not  choosing  to  copy  a scene  giving 


IN TERSPERSI ON,  COMPLICATION , CONTINUITY.  22J 


more  evidences  of  nature  as  God  left  it.  In  this,  we 
should  usually  find  places  where  lawns,  bushes,  forests, 
rivers,  hills,  or  other  paths,  trees,  or  hedges  crossed  or 
stopped  the  straight  lines,  or  made  them  bend  away  in 
other  directions.  So  with  painters’  lines  in  figures  or  in 
buildings — they  are  seldom  unbroken.  Even  in  places 


FIQ.  76.— SOUTH  AISLE  OF  WINCHESTER  CATHEDRAL, 

ENGLAND. 

See  page  240. 

where  they  are  expected  to  be  so,  the  interruption  occa- 
sioned by  folds  of  drapery  about  the  human  body,  or  by 
the  trailing  of  a vine  about  the  pillars  of  a porch  or  edges 
of  a tower,  usually  suggests  a touch  of  nature  that  re- 
deems the  effect  from  artificiality. 


228 


TILE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


Now  let  us  notice  the  applications  of  these  principles; 
and,  first,  to  poetry.  All  literary  works  that  have  occult 
and  intricately  developed  plots  manifest,  of  course,  more 
or  less  of  complication  and  a tendency  to  intcrspcrsion. 
The  important  matter,  in  such  cases,  is  to  have  one  aim 
so  running  through  and  pervading  the  parts  that  all  can 
be  recognised  to  have  continuity.  The  following  passage 
will  serve  to  illustrate  how  this  can  be  done.  Every 
thought  expressed  in  it,  as  well  as  every  expression, 
continues  the  general  idea  ; yet  it  does  this,  as  will  be 
observed,  in  connection  with  many  different  thoughts 
and  expressions  that  are  not  massed,  but  interspersed 
and  complicated.  Like  this,  too,  in  these  regards  is  the 
quotation  from  “ King  Lear”  on  page  138. 


Lodovico. 
Desdemona . 

Othello. 
Desdemona . 
Othello. 
Desdemona . 
Lodovico. 


Desdemona. 

Othello. 

Desdemona. 

Othello. 

Desdemona. 

Othello. 

Desdemona. 

Lodovico. 


Is  there  division  ’tvvixt  my  lord  and  Cassio? 
A most  unhappy  one  : I would  do  much 
T’  atone  them  for  the  love  I bear  to  Cassio. 
Fire  and  brimstone  ! 


My  lord  ? 

Are  you  wise  ? 


What,  is  he  angry  ? 

May  be  the  letter  moved  him, 
For  I think  they  do  command  him  home, 

Deputing  Cassio  in  his  government. 

Trust  me,  I am  glad  of  it. 

Indeed  ? 


I am  glad  to  see  you  mad  ! 
Devil  ! 


My  lord  ? 

How,  sweet  Othello  ? 

( Striking  her. , 


I have  not  deserved  this. 

My  lord,  this  would  not  be  believed  in  Venice, 
Though  I should  swear  I saw  it.  ’T  is  very  much. 
Make  her  amends  ; she  weeps. 

O devil  ! devil  ! 

If  that  the  earth  could  teem  with  woman’s  tears, 


Othello. 


IN  TER  SPER  S/ON,  COMPLICATION,  CONTINUITY.  22g 

Each  drop  she  falls  would  prove  a crocodile. 

Out  of  my  sight  ! 

I will  not  stay  to  offend  you. 

Truly  an  obedient  lady. 

I do  beseech  your  lordship  call  her  back. 

Mistress  ! 

My  lord  ? 

What  would  you  have  with  her,  sir  ? 

Who,  I,  my  lord  ? 

Ay  ; you  did  wish  that  I would  make  her  turn. 

Sir,  she  can  turn,  and  turn,  and  yet  go  on, 

And  turn  again  ; and  she  can  weep,  sir,  weep  ; 

And  she ’s  obedient  as  you  say — obedient — • 

Very  obedient.  Proceed  you  in  your  tears. — 

Concerning  this,  sir — O well  painted  passion  ! 

— Othello,  iv.,  i : Shakespeare. 

In  this  next  example,  we  have  interspersion  and  compli- 
cation in  the  thought  ; by  which  is  meant  a confitsed  effect 
owing  to  the  blending,  and  in  the  same  sentence  too,  of 
plain  and  figurative  language,  as  well  as  of  different  figures. 

Then  with  a skip  as  it  were  from  heel  to  head, 

Leaving  yourselves  fill  up  the  middle  bulk 
O’  the  trial,  reconstruct  its  shape  august, 

From  such  exordium  clap  we  to  the  close  ; 

Give  you,  if  we  dare  wing  to  such  a height, 

The  absolute  glory  in  some  full-grown  speech 
On  the  other  side,  some  finished  butterfly, 

Some  breathing  diamond-flake  with  leaf-gold  fans, 

That  takes  the  air,  no  trace  of  worm  it  was, 

Or  cabbage-bed  it  had  production  from. 

—Ring  and  Book  : R.  Browning. 

And  here  we  have  interspersion  in  the  form,  because  in 
it  the  requirements  of  no  one  order  of  sequence  of  sylla- 
bles or  of  rhythm  are  fulfilled  : 

But  Italy,  my  Italy, 

Can  it  last,  this  gleam  ? 

Can  she  live  and  be  strong, 


Desdemona. 

Lodovico. 

Othello. 

Desdemona. 

Othello. 

Lodovico. 

Othello. 


230 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM . 


Or  is  it  another  dream 

Like  the  rest  we  have  dreamed  so  long  ? 

And  shall  it  be,  must  it  be, 

That  after  the  battle  cloud  has  broken 
She  will  die  off  again 
Like  the  rain, 

Or  like  a poet’s  song 
Sung  of  her  sad  at  the  end 
Because  her  name  is  Italy— 

Die  and  count  no  friend  ? 

— Napoleon  III. , in  Italy  : E.  B . Browning. 

There  is  equal  variety  in  the  following,  but  no  inter  spcr- 
sion.  All  is  in  the  same  rhythm. 

All ’s  done, 

All  ’s  won, 

Never  under  the  sun 

Was  shirt  so  late  finished,  so  early  begun. 

The  work  would  defy 
The  most  critical  eye. 

It  was  bleached — it  was  washed — it  was  hung  out  to  dry — 

It  was  marked  on  the  tail  with  a T and  an  I. 

On  the  back  of  a chair  it 
Was  placed  just  to  air  it, 

In  front  of  the  fire. — Tom  to-morrow  shall  wear  it. 

O cceca  mens  hominum  ! — Fanny,  good  soul, 

Left  her  charge  for  one  moment — but  one  ; a vile  coal 

Bounced  out  from  the  grate  and  set  fire  to  the  whole. 

— A Legend  of  a Shirt:  R.  II.  Barham. 

It  would  not  be  altogether  unjustifiable  to  take  this 
last  quotation  for  an  example  of  complication  in  poetic 
form  ; but  the  following  will  serve  our  purpose  better. 
Would  it  be  possible  to  represent  more  effectively  in  a 
form  appealing  to  the  ear  that  blending  and  twisting  of 
lines  which  is  the  first  suggestion  given  by  the  word  com- 
plication ? Notice  how  in  these  one  line  disappears,  while 
other  lines  cross  it,  and  then  reappears: 


IN  TER  SPER  SION,  COMPLICATION , CONTINUITY. 


231 


Here  we  are  riding  the  rail, 

Gliding  from  out  of  the  station  ; 

Man  though  I am,  I am  pale, 

Certain  of  heat  and  vexation. 

Gliding  from  out  of  the  station, 

Out  from  the  city  we  thrust ; 

Certain  of  heat  and  vexation, 

Sure  to  be  covered  with  dust. 

Out  from  the  city  we  thrust  : 

Rattling  we  run  o’er  the  bridges  ; 

Sure  to  be  covered  with  dust, 

Stung  by  a thousand  of  midges. 

Rattling  we  dash  o’er  the  bridges, 

Rushing  we  dash  o’er  the  plain  ; 

Stung  by  a thousand  of  midges, 

Certain  precursors  of  rain. 

Rushing  we  dash  o’er  the  plain, 

Watching  the  clouds  darkly  lowering, 

Certain  precursors  of  rain, 

Fields  about  here  need  a showering. 

- — From  En  Route , A Pantoum  : Brander  Matthews , 


Beautiful,  distracting  Hetty, 

This  was  how  it  came  to  be 
As  we  strolled  upon  the  jetty. 

I had  danced  three  times  with  Netty, 
She  had  flirted  with  Dobree, 
Beautiful,  distracting  Hetty. 

I was  humming  Donizetti, 

Hurt  was  I and  angry  she. 

As  we  strolled  upon  the  jetty. 

As  she  levelled  her  Negretti 
With  provoking  nicety, 

Beautiful,  distracting  Hetty, 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART- FORM. 


Suddenly  she  flashed  a pretty. 

Half-defiant  glance  at  me, 

As  we  strolled  upon  the  jetty. 

And  our  quarrel  seemed  so  petty 
By  the  grandeur  of  the  sea  : 

Beautiful,  distracting  Hetty, 

As  we  strolled  upon  the  jetty. 

Vi llanelle  : Cosmo  Monkhouse. 

Considered  in  itself,  continuity , as  used  in  any  of  the 
arts  of  sound,  is  the  same  as  that  which  in  oratory  is 
termed  drift.  This  is  a result  produced  partly  by  the 
consecutive  character  of  the  thought,  and  partly  by  the 
gliding  regularity  of  an  even,  unhesitating  flow  of  words 
in  a rhythm  constantly  exciting  and  satisfying  expecta- 
tion, and  suggesting  no  possible  interruption  of  the 
process.  For  examples  of  this  kind  of  poetic  continuity, 
as  well  as  for  the  distinction  that  needs  to  be  made 
between  it  and  progress,  see  page  276. 

In  music  the  gradual  as  well  as  the  sudden  interruption 
of  movements  by  contrasting  strains,  testifies  that  inter- 
spcrsion  is  a legitimate  effect.  Of  the  comic  opera,  in  fact, 
it  is  one  of  the  chief  effects.  Nor  can  any  one  who  has 
ever  listened  for  the  methods  underlying  the  changes  in 
the  melody  and  harmony  of  a symphony,  or  of  any  com- 
position of  a high  order,  fail  to  recognize  in  it  the  almost 
constant  presence  of  complication.  As  a historic  fact,  the 
whole  system  of  harmony  now  in  vogue  in  Europe  sprang 
from  an  effort  to  sing  at  one  and  the  same  time  several 
different  melodies,  as  in  the  following  “ Round  ” or  “ Can- 
non.” As  most  of  us  know,  this  is  so  composed  that  when 
one  voice,  which  has  sung  through  the  first  line,  begins  the 
second  line,  a second  voice  begins  the  first ; and  when  the 
first  voice  begins  the  third  line,  a third  begins  the  first ; 


IN  TER  SPEP  SION,  COMPLICATION , CONTINUITY.  233 


and  all  three  voices  continue  for  some  time  repeating  the 
three  lines  in  succession. 


A glance  at  this  will  reveal  that  the  melodies  move  above, 
below,  and  about  one  another  with  effects  corresponding 
exactly  to  those  of  lines  twisting  and  intersecting  in  com- 


234 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


plication.  At  the  same  time,  as  the  laws  of  harmony 
are  understood  to-day,  unless,  in  the  greater  number  of 

the  parts  of  a compo- 
sition, some  theme  is 
developed  with  such 
a consistent  and  con- 
secutive flow  of  notes 
and  chords  that  they 
fulfil  the  requirements 
of  what  has  here  been 
termed  continuity , the 
product  is  not  an 
artistic  success.  Like 
an  oration  devoid  of 
drift,  it  fails  to  en- 
chain the  attention. 

All  these  methods 
have  a place  in  the 
arts  appealing  to  the 
eye.  Reference  has 
been  made  already  to 
effects  of  interspersion , 
popularly  called  the 
picturesque,  produced 
in  painting  by  a scat- 
tering of  hills  and 
vales,  trees  and  plains, 
rocks  and  flowers,  land 

FIG.  77.-  INTERIOR  OF  ST.  LOO  CATHEDRAL,  , ...  , 

France.  and  water,  light  and 

See  page  240.  shade,  and  colors  of 

all  possible  hues. 
Corot’s  “ Landscape  with  Water,”  Fig.  73,  page  223, 
illustrates  this  effect  as  applied  to  the  use  of  outlines. 


INTERSPERSION,  COM  PLICA  TIO/V,  CONTINUITY.  235 


As  applied  to  that  of 
color,  it  cannot  well  be 
illustrated,  of  course, 
in  pages  where  there 
is  no  color;  but  it  can 
; be  represented  suffi- 
ciently to  imagination 
by  recalling  the  fa- 
miliar effect  termed 
checkered,  whether 
produced  by  different 
dyes  in  fabrics,  or  by 
sunshine  and  shadow 
in  external  nature. 
Both  inter spersion 
and  complication , but 
mainly  the  latter,  are 
apparent  in  the  out- 
lines of  arms  and  limbs 
in  the  “ Descent  from 
the  Cross,”  Fig.  16, 
page  73,  and  in  the 
“ Laocoon,”  Fig.  75, 
page  226.  As  mani- 
fested in  a building 
as  a whole,  inter- 
spersion  was  suffici- 
ently exemplified  in 
Fig.  72,  page  221, 
already  noticed.  But 
in  architecture,  and 
in  sculpture  as  a 
means  of  ornarnent- 


FIG.  78.— INTERIOR  OF  BEVERLEY  MINSTER, 
ENGLAND. 

See  pages  241,  264. 


■A~ 


236 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


ing  architecture,  a special  form  of  inter spersion,  usually 
connected,  too,  with  that  phase  of  complication  to  which 
we  apply  the  term  most  distinctively  and  technically,  may 


FIG.  79.— INTERIOR  OF  EXETER  CATHEDRAL,  ENGLAND. 
See  pages  238,  241,  264. 


be  noticed  in  the  “ Window  of  the  Alhambra,”  Fig.  74, 
page  225.  Complication,  as  thus  illustrated,  is  a method 
as  old  as  the  time  when  Daedalus  planned  his  labyrinth, 


FIG.  80. -CHURCH  OF  ST.  HILAIRE,  ROUEN.  FRANCE. 
See  pages  124,  241. 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


238 

Solomon  his  mysterious  seal,  and  the  Moors  and  builders 
of  Christian  cathedrals  their  interlaced  ornaments,  mosaics, 
and  intersections  of  ribs  and  arches.  See  Figs.  69,  page 
208,  79,  page  236,  and  96,  page  290. 

The  idea  to  be  held  in  mind  in  connection  with  con- 
tinuity is  that  it  is  an  element  of  unity.  So  if  in  a fore- 
ground, for  instance,  there  be  a row  or  group  of  trees 
stretching  backward  interrupted  by  a plain,  it  is  well  if, 
farther  back,  the  same  line  of  direction  be  carried  on,  if 


FIG.  81.— FRONT  ELEVATION. 
See  page  241. 


FIG.  82.— SIDE  ELEVATION. 
See  page  241. 


not  by  trees,  then,  say,  by  a river,  and  still  farther  in  the 
extreme  distance,  by  the  side  of  a hill  or  by  a path  upon 
this  hill.  See  the  way  in  which  such  lines  are  continued 
across  the  entire  canvas  in  Turner’s  “ Decline  of  Carthage,” 
Fig-  51,  page  175,  and  in  Corot’s  “Canal,”  Fig.  47,  page 
157.  Similar  arrangements  can  characterize  figures  as 
represented  in  either  painting  or  sculpture.  Notice  this 
in  the  directions  taken  by  the  different  limbs  of  the  figures 
in  the  “ Laocoon,”  Fig.  75,  page  226.  Also  in  the  lines 


INTERSPERSION,  COMPLICATION , CONTINUITY.  239 


entering  into  both 
human  figures  and 
their  surroundings  in 
Figs.  26,  page  81,  and 
55,  page  1 8 1-  In  this 
way,  also,  as  will  be 
observed  by  glancing 
again  at  these  illustra- 
tions, continuity  con- 
tributes to  the  effects 
of  central-point  and 
parallelism  considered 
in  Chapters  X.  and  XI., 
all  the  methods  of  art, 
as  has  been  said  be- 
fore, being  necessarily 
connected. 

But  to  turn  to  archi- 
tecture. Every  one 
must  have  observed 
that,  as  a rule,  we  de- 
rive more  satisfaction 
from  a building  in 
which  the  window- 
caps  in  the  same  story 
and  the  window-sides 
in  all  the  stories,  form 
together  one,  often  in- 
terrupted, but  yet  con- 
tinuous line.  And  so 
too  with  the  lines  in 
groined  ceilings.  Ob- 
serve how  inartistic 


FIG.  83. — TOWER  OF  BORIS,  KREMLIN, 
MOSCOW. 

See  pages  124,  241. 


240 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


is  the  effect  of  the  ceiling  of  the  south  aisle  of  “ Win- 
chester Cathedral,”  Fig.  76,  page  227.  This  is  so  because 
the  arches,  having  been  constructed  at  different  times  and 


FIG.  84.  DOME  OF  CHIARAVALLE,  IN  ITALY. 

See  page  241. 

in  different  styles,  meet  in  different  ways  and  at  different 
places,  with  the  result  of  suggesting  an  entire  lack  of 
continuity.  The  ceiling  of  “St.  Loo  Cathedral,”  Fig.  77, 


IN  TER  SPE  RSI  ON,  COMPLICA  TION , CONTINUITY.  24 1 


page  234,  is  better,  in  that,  while  it  lacks  continuity,  it 
does  not  render  it  an  impossibility.  But  notice  how  much 
more  satisfactory  is  the  ceiling  of  “ Beverley  Minster,” 
Fig-  /8,  page  235,  in  which,  carrying  the  eye  backward  to 
the  altar,  continuity  is  distinctly  suggested  ; and  also  that 
in  “ Exeter  Cathedral,”  Fig.  79,  page  236,  in  which  the 
central  line  of  the  ceiling  is  itself  continuous.  A similar 
truth  may  be  observed  in  the  lines  forming  the  general 
contours  of  gables,  roofs,  and  towers.  Observe  how  many 
lines  connected  with  how  many  different  architectural 
features — lines  horizontal,  perpendicular,  diagonal— give 
continuity  to  the  front  of  the  church  in  Rouen,  Fig.  80, 
page  237.  So  too  with  the  diagonal  side-lines  on  the  roof 
and  the  towers  in  the  “ Elevations,”  the  work  of  G.  H. 
Edbrooke,  Figs.  81  and  82,  page  238.  Notice  also  the 
continuity  of  the  lines  forming  the  general  contour  of  the 
sides  of  Fig.  69,  page  208,  and  Fig.  83,  page  239,  and 
compare  with  the  effects  of  these,  the  lack  of  continuity, 
and  consequently  of  grace  and  beauty,  in  the  lines  form- 
ing the  general  contour  of  the  sides  of  the  “ Dome  of 
Chiavavalle,  Italy,”  Fig.  84,  page  240.  If  it  be  asked  why, 
in  such  cases,  we  prefer  to  see  one  line,  or  series  of  lines, 
point  to  another  or  others,  and  thus  continue  the  first’s 
effects,  the  answer  is  because  such  arrangements,  with 
their  suggestions  of  order  and  unity , convey  an  impression 
of  design,  and  design  is  the  chief  element  of  art,  and,  in  a 
presumably  artistic  product,  that  which  conveys  this  im- 
pression is  necessarily  the  most  aesthetically  satisfactory. 

It  is  not  strange  then,  that,  in  whatever  art  either  inter- 
spersion  or  complication  exists,  it  seems  to  be  an  established 
principle  that  neither  should  be  used,  as  a rule,  except 
in  connection  with  something  sufficiently  suggestive  of 
continuity  to  convey  the  impression  that  like  has  been 

l6 


242 


THE  GENESIS  OE  ART-FORM. 


put  with  like.  A consciousness  of  this  fact  undoubtedly 
influenced  Raphael  and  Kaulbach,  the  former  in  the 
“School  of  Athens,”  Fig.  10,  p.  41,  and  the  latter  in  the 
“ Reformation,”  to  frame  the  otherwise  confused  groups 
of  figures  within  the  strongly  symmetrical  architectural 
outlines  in  the  one  case  of  a porch,  and  in  the  other  of  a 
church.  Thus  these  artists  by  suggesting  continuity,  through 
arrangements  of  walls  and  pillars  and  ceilings,  counteracted, 
confusion  and  produced  effects  of  unity  and  order.  The 
same  is  also  done  through  the  influence  of  the  general 
outlines  indicated  by  the  windows  and  entrances,  but- 
tresses and  towers  and  arches  and  groinings  used  in  con- 
nection with  the  complicated  forms  not  only  of  Gothic, 
as  has  been  mainly  indicated  here,  but  of  all  architecture. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


CONSONANCE,  DISSONANCE,  AND  INTERCHANGE. 

The  Musical  Meaning  of  the  Term  Shows  it  Allied  to  the  Congruous — Also 
to  the  Repetitious — How  the  same  Meaning  Attaches  to  the  Word  as 
Used  in  other  Arts — Three  Ways  in  which  Features  Seemingly  alike 
may  Differ  : in  Size — In  Combination — In  Material — Consonance  and 
the  Law  of  Help — -Dissonance — Why  Involved  in  Passing  from  one 
Key  to  Another — Why  it  has  Artistic  Value — Interchange — Why 
Necessary  to  Harmony  in  Music — In  Color  and  Outline — Poetic  Con- 
sonance— Dissonance — Harmonizing  of  the  two — Musical  Consonance 
— Dissonance — Consonance  in  Color  in  Connection  with  Difference  in 
Texture — Value— Tone- — Consonance  not  Harmony — Nor  is  Disso- 
nance Contrast — The  Same  Methods  in  Outline — In  Painting  and  Archi- 
tecture— Neglect  of  them  in  Architecture — Illustrations — Results — 
Importance  of  Harmony  thus  Produced — Which  is  not  Inconsistent 
with  some  Dissonance. 


JT  was  said  in  Chapter  VIII.  that  consonant  effects  seem 
alike  not  merely  because,  as  in  congruity , they  are 
associated  in  thought,  nor  merely  because,  as  in  repetition , 
they  are  alike  in  actual  form.  They  seem  alike,  in  part, 
because  of  one  of  these  reasons,  and,  in  part,  because  of 
the  other.  In  music,  from  which  the  term  consonance  is 
taken,  those  tones  are  said  to  manifest  this,  which,  when 
produced  by  unaided  nature  or  by  man  experimenting 
with  the  results  of  nature,  appear  to  be  what  we  term  in 
harmony.  One  reason,  therefore,  why  men  use  the  tones 
together  in  art  is  because  they  go  together  in  nature, 
and  so  are  recognized  to  be  congruous. 

245? 


244 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


But  this  is  not  the  only  reason.  When  we  study  the 
question  more  closely  and  ask  why  they  are  harmonious, 
we  find  the  answer  to  be  because,  in  a sense,  they  are 
also  repetitious.  This  is  not  the  place  in  which  to  detail 
the  various  experiments  through  which  this  fact  has  been 
ascertained.  Among  other  methods,  through  the  use  of 
resonators,  so  constructed  as  to  enable  one  to  detect  the 
presence  in  a tone  of  any  particular  pitch,  it  has  been 
fully  proved  that  notes  which  are  consonant  are  such  as 
contain  the  same  elements  of  pitch,  or — what  is  the  same 
thing — are  notes  in  which  sounds  of  the  same  pitch  are 
repeated.  For  instance,  when  a string  like  that  of  a 
bass  viol  is  struck,  its  note,  if  musical,  is  not  single 
or  simple  : it  is  compounded.  Suppose  that  it  pro- 

duce the  tone  of  the  bass  C — representing  a sound- 
wave caused  by  the  whole  length  of  the  string. 
This  C is  the  main,  or,  as  it  is  termed,  the  prime  tone 
that  we  hear.  But,  at  the  same  time,  this  same  string 
usually  divides  at  the  middle,  producing  what  is  called  a 
partial  tone  of  the  C above  the  bass,  representing  a sound- 
wave caused  by  one  half  the  string’s  length.  It  often 
produces,  too,  partial  tones  of  the  G above  this,  of  the  C 
above  this,  and  of  the  E above  the  last  C,  representing 
sound-waves, caused,  respectively,  by  one  third,  one  fourth, 
and  one  fifth  of  the  string’s  length.  All  the  possible 
partial  tones  are  not,  in  every  instrument,  invariably 
compounded  with  every  prime  tone,  but  whatever  partial 
tones  are  present,  the  musical  law  is  that  the  pitch  of 
these,  as  a rule,  is  the  same  as  the  pitch  of  notes  that  are 
consonant  with  their  prime  tone.  In  other  words,  these 
notes,  as  in  the  cases  of  the  C,  C,  G,  C,  and  E in  the 
music  below,  are  consonant  with  one  another,  because 
they  repeat  in  part  sounds  that  already  enter  into  one 
another’s  composition. 


CONSONANCE , DISSONANCE,  AND  INTERCHANGE.  245 


If  now,  bearing  in  mind  that  it  is  with  the  relations  of 
form  that  art  always  has  to  deal,  we  apply  the  principle 
involved  in  consonance  to  other  arts  than  those  of  sound, 
we  shall  have  little  difficulty  in  detecting  what  is  meant 
by  it.  It  is  an  effect  of  likeness,  in  part,  of  that  which  forms 
suggest  to  thought,  and,  in  part,  of  that  which  they  appear 
to  be ; or,  as  we  might  say,  of  likeness  in  the  one  because 
of  likeness  in  the  other.  The  latter,  the  likeness  in 
appearance,  however,  is  never  complete.  If  it  were,  we 
should  call  it,  not  consonance,  but  repetition. 


Three  principal  ways  will  reveal  themselves,  when  we 
think  of  it,  in  which  features  that  appear  to  be  alike  may 
nevertheless  differ:  namely,  in  size,  in  combination  and  in 
material.  The  lower  do  of  a soprano  voice  may  be  said  to 
differ  in  size  from  the  consonant  lower  do  of  a tenor,  an 
octave  below  it,  in  the  same  key.  One  unacquainted  with 
music  might  not  suppose  that  the  two  differed  at  all ; yet 
the  sound-waves  causing  the  one  are  proportionally 
smaller,  and  move  twice  as  rapidly  as  those  causing  the 
other.  In  the  same  way,  various  tints  or  shades,  if  alike  in 
hue,  may  be  consonant,  though,  as  influenced  by  sunshine 
or  shadow,  they  may  differ  greatly  in  the  degree  or  amount 
— which,  in  this  case,  corresponds  to  size — of  the  coloring 
which  they  manifest.  So,  too,  the  arches  of  a gable  or 
doorway  and  of  a window  may  be  consonant  because 
the  same  in  form,  though  in  size  they  may  differ  greatly. 

Again,  the  do  of  a scale  (C  in  the  music  above)  may  be 
said  to  differ  in  combination  from  the  consonant  mi  or  sol 
(E  or  G in  the  music  above)  of  the  same  scale,  that  which 


246 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


is  a partial  tone  in  the  one,  being  a prime  tone  in  the  other. 
Precisely  similar  conditions  characterize  the  consonance 
of  effects  produced  by  color,  where  in  two  or  more  places 
exactly  the  same  hues  are  used,  but  in  different  propor- 
tions and  quantities.  The  same  conditions  are  equally 
manifested  in  the  accumulations  of  narrow  and  wide 
and  long  and  round  windows,  all,  nevertheless,  partly 
repetitious,  that  we  find  in  a single  consistent  style  of 
architecture. 

Once  more,  the  consonant  notes  may  be  sounded  on 
various  instruments — flutes,  violins,  or  trumpets,  as  the 
case  may  be — and  here  there  may  be  said  to  be  a differ- 
ence in  material.  As  manifested  in  color,  this  evidently 
leads  to  that  method  of  painting  all  objects  in  a picture  or 
a part  of  it,  no  matter  of  what  material  they  may  be 
supposed  to  be  composed — rocks,  lakes,  skies,  or  human 
clothing  or  flesh — in  the  same  general  hue,  producing  the 
effect  of  tone  as  it  is  called,  illustrations  of  which  will 
be  mentioned  on  pages  255  and  256. 

As  manifested  in  outlines,  consonance,  in  connection 
with  difference  in  material,  operates  in  the  same  way  as 
that  which  Ruskin  in  the  fifth  book  of  his  “ Modern  Paint- 
ers ” terms  “ The  Law  of  Help.”  This  he  illustrates  by 
referring  to  Turner’s  picture  called  “ The  Loire  Side.” 
“ The  flatness  of  the  stone,”  he  says,  “ prepares  the  eye 
to  understand  the  flatness  of  the  river.  Further,  hide 
with  your  finger  the  little  ring  on  that  stone,  and  you  will 
find  the  river  has  stopped  flowing.  That  ring  is  to  repeat 
the  curved  lines  of  the  river-bank  which  express  its  line 
of  current,  and  to  bring  the  feeling  of  them  down  to  us. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  road,  the  horizontal  lines  are 
taken  up  again  by  the  dark  pieces  of  wood.”  Such  effects 
as  these  may  evidently  be  included  under  the  term  conso- 


CONSONANCE,  DISSONANCE,  AND  INTERCHANGE.  24 7 


nance.  What  does  this  word  mean  but  sounding  together  ? 
telling  the  same  story  ? conveying  the  same  impression  ? 
That  which,  in  this  picture  by  Turner,  causes  objects  as 
different  essentially  as  stone,  water,  roads,  and  woods  to 
help  one  another  by  way  of  suggestion,  is  the  fact  that 
while  not  alike  in  material  they  are,  nevertheless,  made  to 
have  like  effects  upon  both  the  mind  and  the  eye. 

Enough  has  been  said  to  enable  the  reader  to  under- 
stand in  a general  way  what  is  meant  by  consonance,  and 
in  what  sense  it  can  characterize  products  in  all  the  arts. 
In  order  to  indicate  the  connections  between  it  and  dis- 
sonance and  interchange , let  us  go  back  for  a moment  to 
the  use  of  the  term  in  music.  It  has  been  said  that  cer- 
tain notes  are  consonant  because  they  are  compounded 
of  the  same  tones.  Therefore,  we  strike  a low  C and  a 
high  C,  G,  and  E,  and  call  all,  when  sounded  together,  a 
chord.  But  notes  and  chords,  too,  may  be  consonant 
with  others  that  also  precede  and  follow  them.  A chord 
composed  of  C,  G,  and  E may  thus  be  consonant  with  one 
composed  of  G,  D,  and  B,  because  G,  after  the  octave  C, 
is  the  nearest  partial  of  C ; and  it  may  be  consonant,  too, 
with  one  composed  of  F,  C,  and  A,  because  after  the 
octave  F,  C is  the  nearest  partial  of  F.  The  two  latter 
chords,  therefore,  are  the  ones  most  nearly  related  to  the 
chord  of  C.  But,  besides  this,  notice  that  all  these  chords 
tog-ether  contain  all  the  notes  of  that  musical  scale  which 
begins,  or  has  its  key-note  in  C natural, — namely,  C,  D,  E, 
F,  G,  A,  B,  and  C.  Another  fact,  too,  it  is  important  to 


~y—  - . . — 

. . * 

— 

— e= B 

-O- 

1 22 

-&• 

— 

— g 1 

Notes  0 f Scale.  C 

m - 

D 

— 

E 

F G 

A 

B 

C. 

Chords  of  C 

G 

C 

F 

C 

F 

G 

c. 

24S 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


notice  here.  This  is, that  there  are  some  musical  instru- 
ments in  which  when  a C is  sounded,  not  only  another  C or 
G or  E is  heard,  but  also  above  them  other  partial  tones. 
The  tones  of  this  character  which,  in  different  instruments, 
have  been  detected  as  entering  into  the  composition  of  C, 
F,  and  G,  are  as  follows,  those  nearest  the  bass  being 
heard,  of  course,  much  the  more  prominently  and  com- 
monly : 


Partial  Tones  of  C. 


Of  F. 


Of  G. 


A slight  examination  of  these  possible  partial  tones 
will  furnish  us  with  another  reason  why  all  the  notes 
of  a single  scale  and  the  chords  that  harmonize  them  are 
consonant.  These  notes  all  enter  into  the  composition 
of  the  major  chords  most  nearly  related  to  the  chord  of 
their  key-note,  and  they  also  enter,  either  directly  or  in- 
directly, into  the  composition  of  their  key-note  itself. 
This  being  so,  it  is  evident  that  if  we  pass  from  the  scale 
of  one  key-note,  or,  as  is  said,  from  one  key  to  another; 
for  instance,  from  that  of  C natural  to  that  of  D flat,  which 
is  the  half-note  next  above  C natural  (notice  music  on 
page  275),  all  these  conditions  are  changed.  Not  one  of 
the  chords  of  the  key  of  C natural  is  consonant  with  D 
flat  itself,  and,  accordingly,  it  is  evident  that  before 
we  can  proceed  far  in  the  new  key  all  the  relations  of 
note  to  note  and  chord  to  chord  must  be  changed.  This 
change  cannot  take  place  without  the  ears  detecting  that 
the  strain  which  follows  is  not  consonant  with  that  which 


CONSONANCE,  DISSONANCE,  AND  INTERCHANGE.  249 

precedes ; in  other  words,  without  their  detecting  the 
presence  of  dissonance.  See  the  music  on  page  275. 

Dissonance , however,  is  not  a wholly  disagreeable 
feature.  In  fact,  as  everyone  acquainted  with  music 
knows,  occasional  suggestions  of  dissonance  often  give 
distinct  pleasure,  as,  for  instance,  in  the  chord  of  the  sev- 
enth, an  illustration  of  which  may  be  noticed  in  the  chord 
next  to  the  last  in  the  music  on  page  247.  One  reason 
for  the  pleasure  is  that  consonance  has  a tendency  to 
become  monotonous.  Dissonance  counteracts  it  by  in- 
troducing into  the  composition  an  element  of  variety. 
Another  reason,  closely  connected  with  this,  is  that  by 
means  of  dissonance  chords  pass,  as  has  been  said,  from 
one  key  to  another,  thus  rendering  progress  possible, 
which  of  itself  enhances  the  listener’s  interest.  The  same 
principle  is  true  as  applied  to  outline  and  color.  The 
variety  imparted  by  dissonance , as  long  as  it  is  kept 
subordinate , so  as  not  to  interfere  with  the  general  effect 
of  unity , always  has  artistic  value. 

In  the  external  world,  the  blending  of  some  dissonant 
characteristics  with  a decided  preponderance  of  conso- 
nance, constitutes  what  is  termed  the  harmony  of  nature. 
The  same  is  true  of  that  of  art.  Tones,  colors,  and  outlines 
that  are  consonant  do  not  need  to  be  harmonized.  They 
harmonize  naturally.  The  laws  of  harmony  have  to  do 
mainly,  therefore,  with  the  methods  of  bringing  together 
factors  that  are  not  consonant.  The  way  in  which  this  is 
done  involves  gradation,  abruptness,  and  transition,  all  to  be 
considered  in  the  next  chapter.  At  present  we  have  to  deal 
with  cases  in  which  the  effects  of  dissona?ice  are  not  removed, 
but  are  allowed  to  be  present,  and  yet  are  overcome,  as  by 
counteraction  where  there  is  existing  confusion.  That 
which  overcomes  dissonance  is  an  application  in  music  of  a 


250 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


method  identical  with  what  in  the  arts  of  sight  is  termed 
interchange.  The  application  is  a very  natural  one  to  be 
made.  It  is  merely  a modification  of  a common  musical 
principle,  in  accordance  with  which,  in  passing  from  one 
chord  to  another,  one  of  the  notes  in  both  chords  is  made 
to  be  the  same.  Notice  how  this  method  is  exemplified 
in  all  but  one  chord  of  the  following,  copied  from  Theo- 
dore Baker’s  translation  of  Ludwig  Bussler’s  “ Elemen- 
tary Harmony.”  Compare  with  these  the  chords  also 
used  in  succession  on  page  247.  In  consequence  of  this 


E±?=S  J-S  S‘ kS  S 

f f r 1 1 * 1 r r 


s 


-5 — **- 

— m- 


2 — 1 — i- 


* | — L* — ' — 


arrangement,  made  in  exact  conformity  to  the  principles 
unfolded  in  this  book,  like  is  put  with  like  in,  at  least,  one 
regard,  and  the  ear,  recognizing  this  fact,  feels  that,  not- 
withstanding differences,  and  notwithstanding,  as  in  the 
following,  a passage  to  an  entirely  new  key,  the  chords 
rightly  go  with  one  another. 


Key  of  C to  G. 


m 


& 1 * 


C to  F. 


i— . — I- 


mi 


» m 


Now  it  is  often  the  case  that,  by  a special  application  of 
this  principle,  the  musician,  without  using  all  the  chords 
necessary  to  connect  keys  according  to  the  methods  of 
complete  harmonic  gradation  or  transition , can  establish 
a connection  sufficient  for  the  purpose  by  interchange. 
To  do  this,  he  introduces  into  a chord  of  the  key  in 
which  the  music  is  moving  a note  that  belongs  only  to  a 
chord  in  another  key.  In  this  way  he  prepares  the  ear 


CONSONANCE , DISSONANCE , INTERCHANGE.  25 1 


for  this  other  key.  Notice  the  E natural  introduced  thus 
into  the  second  chord  of  the  following : 


C 

1 1 

B 

Id 

£ %sk 

— - H 

4: 

f -14# 

fiS 

L— jg; B 

In  a corresponding  way,  of  course,  a note  that  really 
belongs  only  to  a chord  in  a first  key  may  be  used  in  a 
chord  belonging  only  to  a second,  which  is  thus  connected 
with  the  one  that  precedes  it. 

This  effect,  which  is  very  common  in  music,  is  exactly 
paralleled  by  interchange  of  color  and  outline  in  the  arts 
that  are  seen.  Thus  in  Titian’s  “ Bacchus  and  Ariadne,” 
a red  scarf  is  given  to  Ariadne  whose  form  stands  out 
against  the  blue  of  the  sky,  while  blue  drapery  clothes  a 
nymph  depicted  amid  red-brown  colors  underneath  ; and 
the  painter  has  been  much  praised  for  this  method  of  pro- 
ducing harmony.  A similar  effect  is  sometimes  seen  in 
buildings,  in  which,  notwithstanding  variety  in  the  pitch 
of  the  window-caps  of  different  stories,  the  feeling  of  unity 
is  preserved  by  an  occasional  suggestion,  in  the  subordinate 
features  of  the  lower  stories,  of  a sharper  pitch  in  the  upper, 
or  vice  versa. 

Now  for  illustrations  of  these  methods  in  the  products 
of  the  different  arts.  In  poetry  it  is  difficult  for  some  to 
separate  elements  of  form  from  those  of  thought.  But, 
as  will  be  shown  in  another  volume,  there  is  a scientific 
appropriateness  in  applying  the  terms  just  used  to  verse. 
Here  it  will  be  sufficient  to  indicate  their  superficial 
appropriateness.  The  following  lines  are  harmonious 
in  a high  degree,  and  this  on  account  of  the  coiisonance 
produced  by  the  likeness  between  associated  sounds,  not 
only  in  rhythms  and  rhymes  but  in  the  alliteration  or 


252 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


assonance  of  consecutive  consonants  or  vowels.  It  is 
hardly  necessary  to  point  out  that  in  the  alliterative 
repetition  of  the  1 in  the  first  three  accented  words, 
as  well  as  in  other  analogous  cases,  we  have  what  exactly 
corresponds  to  interchange , as  exemplified  above  in  the 
use  of  the  same  notes  in  consecutive  musical  chords. 


Blessed  of  all  men  living  that  he  found 
Her  weak  limbs  bared  and  bound, 

And  in  his  arms  and  in  his  bosom  bore, 

And  as  a garment  wore 
Her  weight  of  want  and  as  a royal  dress 
Put  on  her  weariness. 

As  in  faith’s  hoariest  histories  men  read 
The  strong  man  bore  at  need, 

Thro’  roaring  rapids,  when  all  heaven  was  wild. 

The  likeness  of  a child. 

— A Song  of  Italy  : Swinburne. 


The  following,  as  befits  the  thought  expressed,  is 
highly  inharmonious,  containing  too  little  of  rhythm, 
alliteration,  or  assonance  to  produce,  so  far  as  concerns 
the  form,  any  effect  of  unity.  All  is  dissonance. 

May  you  a better  feast  never  behold 

You  knot  of  mouth-friends  ! Smoke  and  lukewarm  water 
Is  your  perfection.  This  is  Timon's  last, 

Who,  stuck  and  spangled  with  your  flattery, 

Washes  it  off,  and  sprinkles  in  your  faces 
Your  reeking  villainy.  Live  loathed  and  long, 

Most  smiling,  smooth,  detested  parasites. 

Courteous  destroyers,  affable  wolves,  meek  bears. 

You  fools  of  fortune,  trencher-friends,  time’s  flies, 

Cap-and-knee  slaves,  vapors  and  minute-jacks  ! 

Of  man  and  beast  the  infinite  malady 
Crust  you  quite  o’er. 

— Titnon  °J  Athens , iii. , 6:  Shakespeare, 


CONSONANCE , DISSONANCE,  AND  INTERCHANGE.  253 


In  the  following  we  have  some  decided  dissonance , as  in 
the  second,  sixth,  fourteenth,  and  sixteenth  lines,  but,  on 
the  whole,  everything  is  welded  together  so  as  to  pro- 
duce a general  effect  of  harmony. 


Thither  winged  with  speed 
A numerous  brigade  hastened  ; as  when  bands 
Of  pioneers,  with  spade  and  pickaxe  armed 
Forerun  the  royal  camp  to  trench  a field 
Or  cast  a rampart.  Mammon  led  them  on, 

Mammon,  the  least  erected  spirit  that  fell 

From  heaven  ; for  e’en  in  heaven  his  looks  and  thoughts 

Were  always  downward  bent,  admiring  more 

The  riches  of  heaven’s  pavement,  trodden  gold, 

Than  aught  divine  or  holy  else  enjoyed 
In  vision  beatific.  By  him  first 
Men  also  and  by  his  suggestion  taught 
Ransacked  the  centre,  and  with  impious  hands 
Rifled  the  bowels  of  their  mother  earth 
For  treasures  better  hid.  Soon  had  his  crew 
Opened  into  the  hill  a spacious  wound 
And  digged  out  ribs  of  gold 

— Paradise  Last,  i.  : Miiton . 

Consonance  in  music  is  most  nearly  perfect  in  the  de- 
gree in  which  all  the  notes  that  are  sounded  together  in 
a chord  are  most  nearly  what  are  termed  perfect  harmon- 
ics, and  also  in  the  degree  in  which  the  successive  notes 
of  melodies  and  chords  are  all  based  upon  the  harmony 
of  one  key,  or,  if  of  many  keys,  of  keys  following  one 
another  according  to  the  simplest  principles  of  harmonic 
progress.  For  examples  of  this,  see  the  music  on 
page  250. 

But  there  is  no  art  in  which  subordinated  dissonance 
plays  a more  important  part.  Not  to  speak  of  that  which 
is  necessarily  involved  in  every  transition  to  a new  key, 


254 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


mentioned  a moment  ago,  even  the  chords  of  the  domi- 
nant, subdominant,  and  tonic,  which  are  used  in  complet- 
ing the  simplest  harmony,  are  suggestive  of  dissonance. 
Especially  is  this  the  case  with  the  dominant,  which  often 
includes  the  only  remotely  harmonic  seventh  note. 

F G C 


Sub-dominant.  Dominant.  Tonic. 


And  when  we  pass  to  a composition  at  all  intricate, 
there  is  apparently  no  end  to  the  number  or  variety  of 
these  subordinate  dissonances.  They  are  not  an  injury 
to  music,  but  of  the  greatest  benefit.  By  adding  to  the 
perfectly  harmonic  notes  of  a chord  an  occasional  partly 
inharmonic  note,  as  in  the  chord  of  the  seventh  or  ninth, 
the  musician  is  enabled,  through  using  one  or  a series  of 
such  chords,  to  connect  any  possible  combinations  of  notes 
however  different.  Notice  the  illustrations  of  the  methods 
of  making  transitions  from  one  key  to  another  that  are 
given  on  pages  250  and  275. 

In  this  place,  however,  we  cannot  discuss  fully  any  of 
these  methods,  but  merely,  in  a general  way,  indicate  what 
they  are,  and  their  general  importance.  We  pass  on  to 
consonance  in  colors  and  outlines.  Like  that  in  sound,  it 
differs  from  repetition , although  it  partly  involves  it.  As 
was  said  on  page  245,  the  difference  is  mainly  in  amount 
or  size,  in  combination , and  in  material.  Difference  in 
amount , so  far  as  it  applies  to  color,  involves  no  principle 
not  sufficiently  treated  in  connection  with  balance , sym- 
metry, and  interchange.  Differences  in  combination  and 
material,  however,  need  more  mention.  As  all  recognize, 
there  may  be,  without  any  real  repetition,  a consonance  of 


CONSONANCE , DISSONANCE , INTERCHANGE.  255 

color  between  a plaided  woollen  shawl  of  two  hues,  a 
brocaded  silk  of  two  shades,  and  a satin  of  one  shade. 
Take  the  painting  in  the  New  York  Metropolitan  Museum, 
by  Carl  Marr,  entitled  “ Gossip.”  Almost  every  promi- 
nent object  in  this — the  window-curtain,  the  table-cloth, 
the  apron  of  one  of  the  principal  figures,  the  bodice  of 
another,  the  floor,  etc. — -is  depicted  in  white.  On  the  con- 
trary, in  Fortuny’s  “Spanish  Lady,”  hanging  near  it, 
almost  every  article  of  clothing  is  depicted  in  black.  In 
each  picture,  however,  the  prevailing  tone  is  applied  to 
each  different  object,  with  a slightly  different  admixture. 
Otherwise  there  would  be  no  way  furnished  of  distinguish- 
ing one  thing  from  another.  As  it  is,  each  is  represented 
as  having  a texture  peculiar  to  itself,  a condition  con- 
sistent with  consonance , but  not  with  exact  repetition. 

Again,  we  often  see  instances  of  a combination  of  an 
illuminating  color  and  of  a color  natural  to  the  objects 
illumined.  Sunlight,  moonlight,  twilight,  candlelight,  all 
produce  different  atmospheric  effects  both  of  light  and 
of  shade,  and  according  to  the  nearness  or  remoteness 
of  our  viewpoint,  these  work  changes  in  the  foliage  of  the 
same  tree  or  the  folds  of  the  same  fabric.  Such  changes 
as  these,  too,  and  in  all  that  is  termed  the  value  of  colors, 
are  not  consistent  with  exact  repetition , but  they  are  with 
consonance.  Once  more,  the  same  kind  of  light,  as,  for 
instance,  in  a sunset  or  a storm,  often  produces  a similar 
color,  as  of  a pervading  gold  or  gray,  in  objects  as  different 
in  material  and  even  in  hue  as  rocks,  water,  trees,  and 
clouds.  Notice  in  the  New  York  Metropolitan  Museum, 
the  “ Ville  d'Avray  ” by  Corot,  “ Le  Soir  ” by  C.  H. 
Davis,  “ The  Bashful  Suitor  ” by  Joseph  Israels,  “ Spring  ” 
by  Bolton  Jones,  “Woodland  and  Cattle”  by  Auguste 
Bonheur,  and  “Un  Quatuor”  by  W.  T.  Dannat. 


256 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


In  other  cases,  the  same  effect,  which  is  termed 
tone,  can  be  produced  independently  of  the  illumi- 
nating light,  merely  by  placing  in  juxtaposition  objects 
of  different  materials  that  nevertheless  have,  or  may  be 
supposed  to  have,  similar  hues.  In  the  painting  in  the 
New  York  Metropolitan  Museum,  entitled  “ Monks  in  an 
Oratory,”  by  F.  M.  Granet,  the  color  of  the  monk’s  robes 
is  the  same  as  that  of  all  the  woodwork  of  the  chapel. 
It  is  hardly  necessary  to  point  out  that  such  effects, 
while  resembling  repetition , are  due  not  to  it  so  much 
as  to  that  development  of  it,  inspired  by  a desire  to 
have  objects  that  are  associated  in  thought  associated 
also  in  appearance,  which  we  find  in  consonance. 

Some  confound  consonance  with  harmony.  Of  course, 
everything  consonant  is  harmonious,  but  the  latter  includes 
much  more  than  the  former.  It  includes  dissonance,  which 
has  been  joined  with  consonance  and  subordinated  to  it  so 
as  to  form  with  it  a unity.  Dissonance  in  color  corresponds 
to  noise  in  music,  and  for  this  reason  must  be  clearly  dis- 
tinguished from  what  is  termed  contrast 1 in  color.  This  is 
produced  by  the  complementary  colors,  and  in  dissonance 
the  colors  are  not  complementary.  They  have  no  con- 
nection whatever.  It  is  owing  to  this  that,  when  placed 
side  by  side,  they  can  be  made  to  seem  parts  of  the  same 
general  whole  only  by  the  methods  of  interchange  as  illus- 
trated on  page  251,  or  of  gradation  and  transition  which 
weld  them  into  a closer  unity.  These  latter  will  be  con- 
sidered in  the  next  chapter.  It  will  be  understood  that 

1 As  stated  on  page  28,  contrast  or  antithesis  is  an  effect  produced  when 
two  objects  differ  diametrically  in,  at  least,  one  particular,  and  yet  agree  in 
others.  Where  there  is  dissonance,  there  is  not,  necessarily,  any  agreement 
whatever.  The  similar  tones  entering  into  the  major  chords  of  C natural 
and  F natural  produce  contrast ; the  dissimilar  ones  entering  into  those  of 
C natural  and  C sharp  produce  dissonance. 


CONSONANCE , DISSONANCE , .4/VZ)  INTERCHANGE.  257 

ail  the  methods  of  which  we  are  now  speaking  enter  into 
the  constitution  of  harmony,  but  harmony  itself  involves 
a great  deal  more,  of  which  it  is  aside  from  the  purpose  of 
the  present  volume  to  speak. 

Let  us  pass  on  to  some  exemplifications  of  these 
methods  in  outline.  Two  arms  in  the  human  figure  may 
be  alike  by  way  of  repetition  ; but  an  arm  and  a leg  differ- 
ing in  size , a bare  arm  and  a clothed  one  differing  in  com- 
bination, or  a limb  just  suggested  as  underneath  drapery 
and  the  drapery  itself  differing  in  material — all  these, 
though  often  involving  some  parallelism  and  repetition 
are  often  alike  also  by  way  of  consonance.  (See  “ Group 
of  the  Niobe,”  Fig.  45,  page  146,  “The  Dancer,”  Fig.  56, 
page  183,  “ The  Soldier’s  Return,”  Fig.  52,  page  176,  and 
“The  German  Captive,”  Fig.  53,  page  177.) 

In  the  tapestry  of  Raphael’s  “ Ascension,”  the  posi- 
tions of  the  disciples  kneeling  on  either  side  of  the 
Christ,  the  very  bend  of  their  knees,  hips,  shoulders, 
elbows,  while  sufficiently  varied  to  prevent  monotony, 
are  nevertheless  so  much  alike  that  we  at  once  recognize 
them  as  consonant.  Examples  of  this  sufficient  for  our 
purpose  may  be  observed  in  Figs.  16,  page  73  ; 26,  page 
81  ; 46,  page  147;  70,  page  215;  and  94,  page  288.  In 
the  same  way,  many,  perhaps  the  most,  of  the  different 
features  connected  with  a building  said  to  be  erected  in 
some  one  style  are  alike.  The  use  of  color  enters  largely 
into  effects  in  painting,  and  much  imitation  of  natural 
forms  characterizes  both  painting  and  sculpture.  Neither 
fact  is  true  of  architecture.  Its  effects  are  often  confined 
to  those  of  forms  alone,  thus  making  these  of  supreme  im- 
portance. Its  forms,  moreover,  are  originated  by  the 
artist.  This  makes  it  easy  to  have  them  such  as  inter- 
fere with  what  may  be  called  the  natural  requirements 


258 


THE  GEXES1S  OF  ART-FORM. 


of  art.  For  both  reasons,  the  architect  needs  to  be  ex- 
ceedingly careful  in  his  work.  A painter  has  but  to 
copy  a tree  as  he  sees  it  in  nature,  and  every  part  of  it 
will  be  consonant.  The  leaves  or  branches  will  differ  in 
size  and  shape  and,  in  the  autumn,  at  least,  differ  suffi- 
ciently in  color  to  suggest  differences  in  combination  and 
material.  But,  comparing  leaf  with  leaf  and  branch  with 
branch,  the  same  principle  of  formation  will  so  manifest 


FIG.  85.— CHATEAU  DE  RANDAU,  VICHY,  FRANCE. 
See  pages  124,  180,  262. 


itself  in  every  part  of  the  tree  that  no  one  who  sees  it  can 
doubt  that  each  belongs  to  the  same  organism.  A build- 
ing should  appear  to  be  as  much  a unity  in  this  sense  as  a 
tree.  Exact  repetition  of  the  same  forms,  as  already 
explained,  would  always  make  it  seem  thus.  But,  in 
architecture,  exact  repetition  is  not  always  possible  ; nor 
even,  if  we  wish  to  produce  thoroughly  natural  effects, 


CONSONANCE,  DISSONANCE,  AND  INTERCHANGE.  259 

desirable.  The  method  that  is  both  possible  and  desir- 
able is  consonance.  A moment’s  reflection  will  reveal, 
too,  that  there  are  certain  very  simple  devices  of  arrange- 
ment which  necessarily  secure  this  effect.  It  ought  to 
reveal,  also,  that  the  effect  is  important  enough  to  make 
even  a child  notice  the  defects  in  cases  in  which  it  is 
neglected. 


FIG.  86.— CHAPEL  IN  CATACOMBS  OF  ST.  AGNES,  ROME. 
See  page  262. 


Notwithstanding  this,  how  many  architects  fail  to  recog- 
nize the  fact,  architects  too  of  the  highest  reputation  ? 
To  such  an  extent  is  this  the  case,  that  one  is  tempted 
by  it  toward  the  easy  task  of  a destructive  critic  in 
general,  and  to  the  easier  task  of  destroying  their  repu- 
tations in  particular.  But  a man  who  becomes  a destructive 


26o 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


critic,  except  when  intellectual  slaughter  is  justified  in 
order  to  prevent  the  slaughter  of  the  truth  which  he 

represents,  is  one  who 
has  turned  from  the 
discussion  of  princi- 
ples and  is  willing  to 
imperil  the  accept- 
ance of  them  for  the 
empty,  often  merely 
malicious  satisfaction 
of  d oing  personal 
harm  to  those  whom 
he  should  wish  to 
help.  In  the  long 
run,  to  live  and  to 
let  live  is  the  wisest 
way  of  serving  the 
truth,  whether  of 
mind  or  heart.  Ac- 
cordingly, most  of 
these  illustrations  are 
taken  from  foreign 
and  remote  sources. 
But  each  represents 
some  effect  that  is 
staring  every  Ameri- 
can in  the  face, 
almost  every  day. 

Of  those  connected 

FIG.  87.  — INTERIOR  OF  ST.  BOTOLPH,  BOSTON,  ENQ.  with  exteriors,  notice 
See  page  262.  the  discords  mani- 

fested in  the  radically  different  shapes  given  to  the 
windows  and  openings  and  gables  in  the  Church  of  St. 


CONSONANCE , DISSONANCE,  AND  INTERCHANGE.  26  I 


Nigier,  Lyons,  Fig.  67,  page  205,  in  the  Palace  of  Justice 
of  the  same  place,  Fig.  29,  page  85,  and  in  the  “ Plan  for 
a Theatre  and  Ton-Halle,”  Fig.  60,  page  191.  Compare 
with  these,  the  consonance  of  corresponding  forms  in 
really  great  buildings  like  the  Greek  Temples,  Fig.  1, 
page  15,  the  Taj  Mahal,  Fig.  3,  page  19,  the  Cathedrals 


FIG.  88.— INTERIOR  OF  ST.  MARTYN’S  CHURCH, 
CANTERBURY,  ENG. 

See  page  262. 


of  Salisbury,  Fig.  68,  page  20 7,  St.  Mark,  Fig.  31,  page 
88,  Canterbury,  Fig.  32,  page  89,  St.  Sophia,  Fig.  42, 
page  123,  and  Sienna,  Fig.  97,  page  292.  Notice,  too, 
a violation  of  consonance  closely  allied,  because  the  forms 
are  composed  of  lines,  to  that  of  parallelism , in  the 
differences  in  pitch  given  to  the  different  parts  of  the 


262 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


roof  in  the  “ Plan  for  a Theatre  and  Ton-Halle,”  Fig.  60, 
page  1 9 1 , and  also  in  the  “Chateau  de  Randau,  Vichy,” 
Fig-  85,  Page  25§-  Compare  these  with  the  consonant 
effects  in  “St.  Mark’s,  Venice,”  Fig.  31,  page  88,  and  the 
“ Mosque  of  St.  Sophia,”  Fig.  42,  page  123.  Look  now  at 
some  equally  discordant  interior  effects,  which  also  are 

connected  with  a violation 
of  parallelism.  Observe 
first  the  discord  and  con- 
fusion of  lines  in  the  end 
view  of  a “ Chapel  in  the 
Catacombs,”  Fig.  86,  page 
259.  Observe,  too,  the  dis- 
cord between  the  ceiling 
of  the  church  and  of  the 
chancel,  and  also  between 
the  chancel  ceiling  and  its 
window  in  “ St.  Botolph, 
Boston,  England,”  Fig.  87, 
page  260.  The  same  feat- 
ures are  discordant  in  the 
old  church  of  “ St.  Mar- 
tyn’s,  Canterbury,”  Fig.  88, 
page  261.  So  are  the  front 
arch  of  the  tower  and  that 
of  the  chancel  just  beyond 
it  in  the  “ Litchfield  Ca- 
thedral," F'ig.  89. 

How  thoroughly  at  home  an  American  ought  to  feel 
in  these  churches?  Do  they  not  furnish  specimens  of 
what  we  find  exemplified  almost  everywhere  in  our  coun- 
try? Yet  harmony  of  effect  that  results  from  consonance , 
to  which  dissonance  is  kept  subordinate,  is  almost  as 


FIG.  90.  — FARNESE  PALACE,  ROME. 

See  page  265. 


264 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


important  in  architecture  as  in  music.  Only  in  the  sense 
in  which  Chinese  music,  mainly  struck  from  gongs  and 
drums,  is  worthy  of  being  classed  as  a product  of  the 
latter  art,  are  structures  in  which  confusion  is  made  so 
prominent,  worthy  of  being  classed  as  products  of  the 
former.  Compare  these  effects  now  with  the  consonant 
ones  in  Fig.  12,  page  49,  and  Figs.  78  and  79,  pages  235 
and  236. 

It  is  difficult  to  conceive  how  a man  who  has  never 
studied  the  subject  at  all  can  fail  to  detect  the  blunders 
in  some  of  the  discords  above.  Certainly  few  children 
playing  with  building  blocks  would  make  mistakes  analo- 
gous to  them.  The  outlines  of  the  toy  houses  that  they 
construct  are  usually  consonant  at  least.  Why  is  this  not 
the  case  with  houses  built  by  architects?  For  the  same 
reason,  probably,  that  many  in  other  arts — musicians, 
elocutionists,  painters — owing  to  false  methods  of  study- 
ing or  of  applying  rules,  seem  to  be  unable  to  sing,  speak, 
or  color  in  a natural  way.  Certain  methods  of  studying 
or  applying  the  laws  of  architecture  seem  to  have  a cor- 
responding effect.  Those  who  should  be  conversant  with 
them  neglect  to  exemplify  requirements  that  are  the  most 
instinctive  of  which  we  know. 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind,  however,  that  one  reason, — 
the  chief  one  perhaps, — why  architectural  discords  such  as 
have  been  illustrated  displease,  is  because  it  is  felt  that 
they  are  meant  to  be,  or  at  least  should  be  meant  to  be, 
concords.  If  dissonant  forms  are  not  so  many  and  prom- 
inent as  to  make  them  seem  other  than  subordinate,  they 
may  add  greatly,  as  has  been  said  before,  to  the  attrac- 
tiveness of  that  in  which  they  appear.  Thus,  as  we  all 
recognize;  a few  round  or  arched  windows  introduced 
into  walls,  gables,  or  towers  characterized  by  horizontal 


CONSONANCE , DISSONANCE , .4WZ)  INTERCHANGE.  265 

lines  afford  relief  to  what  might  otherwise  appear  monoto- 
nous,— a fact  well  illustrated  by  the  alternation  of  straight 
and  round  forms  in  the  Doric  frieze  (see  page  201).  It 
may  be  well,  too,  in  order  to  prevent  misapprehension,  to 
add  that  there  is  a sense,  which  cannot,  however,  be 
explained  here,  in  which  curves,  angles,  and  squares, 
though  differing  in  shape,  may  be  perfectly  harmonious, 
inasmuch  as  they  may  be  in  proportion  to  one  another. 
In  the  facade  of  the  Farnese  Palace  (Fig.  go,  page  263), 
also  in  that  of  St.  Peter’s,  Rome,  we  have  (Fig.  23,  page 
78)  illustrations  of  this,  as  well  as  of  a fl'ay  in  which  disso- 
nance can  be  used,  so  as  not  to  lessen,  but  very  materially 
to  heighten,  the  general  effect  of  consonance.  Many  of 
the  window-caps  in  these  facades  are  alternately  circular 
and  angular ; yet  as  the  height  and  width  of  all  the  caps 
are  the  same,  all  of  them,  though  not  repetitious,  are 
nevertheless  sufficiently  alike  to  be  in  every  regard  har- 
monious. This  is  so  because  in  them,  whatever  conso- 
nance and  dissonance  they  contain,  blend.  They  fit  into 
the  same  general  form  in  such  a way  that  there  is  no  sug- 
gestion of  anything  but  unity. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


GRADATION,  ABRUPTNESS,  TRANSITION,  AND  PROGRESS 
IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC. 

Gradation  and  its  Relation  to  Principality,  Central-Point,  and  Massing — 
Abruptness,  Transition,  and  Progress  — Connection  between  these 
Methods  and  those  already  Considered — Gradation  in  the  Sounds  and 
Colors  of  Nature — In  its  Outlines — Abruptness  in  Nature — And  Tran- 
sition— Difference  between  this  and  Progress — Gradation  in  the  Thought 
and  Form  of  Poetry — Abruptness — Transition — Gradation  in  Music — 
Abruptness — Transition — Continuity  in  Poetry  without  Progress — With 
Progress — Continuity  and  Progress  in  Music. 


REFERENCE  to  the  list  of  methods  on  page  131 


will  show  us  that  the  next  ones  claiming  our  atten- 
tion are  gradation,  abruptness,  transition,  and  progress. 
By  the  first  of  these  is  meant  an  arrangement  causing 
one  form  to  differ  from  a second  according  to  the  same 
method,  and  sometimes  degree,  in  which  this  second  differs 
from  a third,  between  which  and  the  first  the  second  is 
situated.  In  consonance,  as  we  have  found,  forms  are  never 
exactly  alike;  and  if,  in  order  to  secure  the  effect  of  unity, 
we  try  to  arrange  them  so  as  to  seem  alike,  we  are  neces- 
sarily led  into  gradation,  a method  sustaining,  for  this 
reason,  the  same  relation  to  consonance  as  principality  to 
comparison,  central-point  to  congruity , and  massing  to  repe- 
tition. Each  of  the  latter  of  these  pairs  has  its  origin  in 
an  attempt  to  bring  together  into  one  organic  form  many 
factors  characterized,  respectively,  by  each  of  the  former. 


266 


oRADA  TION  IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC. 


2 67 


As  will  also  be  observed,  gradation  is  necessary  to  the 
completeness  of  the  arrangements  begun  in  principality , 
central-point , and  massing.  The  first  two  of  these  could 
exist  without  gradation,  but  in  the  degree  in  which  a form 
is  a distinct  unity , subordinate  features  and  radiating  lights 
and  lines  diminish  gradually  in  prominence  and  intensity 
as  they  move  outward  from  the  principal  feature,  or  the 
centre.  The  same  is  true  of  massing.  Things  that  are 
brought  together  by  way  of  repetition  are  more  alike  and 
less  alike ; and  the  way  in  which  they  are  graded,  accord- 
ing to  the  degrees  in  which  they  manifest  differences, 
measures  the  unity  of  the  general  results.  In  other  words, 
without  gradation,  the  principal , central , and  massed  factors 
might  seem  to  belong  to  one  product,  and  everything 
else  to  another  product. 

As  is  the  case  with  all  the  methods  to  which  it  corre- 
sponds, gradation  in  art  does  not  exist  without  its  antithe- 
sis, which  may  be  termed  abruptness.  By  this  is  meant 
a sudden,  unforetokened  change  from  one  theme,  key, 
shape,  shade  or  color  to  another.  Of  course,  a composi- 
tion in  which  there  are  many  of  these  changes  can  have 
but  little  unity.  Yet,  even  in  connection  with  them, 
through  the  method  of  gradation , a nexus  can  often 
be  formed  between  what  precedes  and  what  follows,  of 
such  a nature  that,  in  spite  of  the  abruptness,  everyone 
can  perceive  a connection  of  the  one  part  with  the  other. 
This  nexus  is  called  a transition.  Finally,  consonance,  dis- 
sonance, interchange,  gradation,  abruptness,  and  transition, 
all  together  and  in  different  ways,  when,  on  the  whole,  there 
is  a continued  forward  movement,  result  in  artistic  progress. 

Corresponding  to  what  has  been  said  of  gradation,  it 
may  be  as  well  to  add,  but  without  explanations — where 
none  are  needed — that  as  methods  of  arrangement,  abrupt- 


268 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


ness  is  related  to  the  general  conception  of  dissonance  just 
as  is  subordination  to  contrast,  setting  to  incongruity,  and 
interspersion  to  alteration ; and  that  transition  is  related 
to  interchange  as  balance  to  complement,  parallelism  to 
comprehensiveness,  and  complication  to  alternation. ' Prog- 
ress, again,  which  may  be  said  to  influence  primarily  the 
outlining  of  movements  in  time,  is  related  to  continuity 
very  much  as  symmetry,  which  has  a corresponding  effect 
upon  outlining  in  space,  is  related  to  that  which  has  been 
termed  organic  form. 

Like  the  characteristics  hitherto  considered,  all  these  to 
be  treated  now  are  exemplified  in  nature.  In  listening 
to  a bird  singing,  to  a wind  whistling,  or  to  a surf  break- 
ing, we  usually  notice  a gradual  increase  and  decrease  in 
the  blended  sounds.  It  is  the  same  when  observing  color. 
Any  ordinary  lawn  reveals  an  almost  infinite  number  of 
shades  of  green,  and  the  most  of  these  coalesce,  but  show 
scarcely  a trace  of  when  and  where  they  do  it.  A clear 
sky  at  dawn  or  sunset  exhibits  between  the  horizon  and 
the  zenith  every  color  of  the  spectrum  from  red  to  purple, 
yet  no  boundary  line  between  any  two  colors.  Among 
the  maple  trees  in  spring,  when  just  beginning  to  show 
their  leaves,  one  can  clearly  see  hues  as  different  as  red, 
yellow,  and  green,  yet  it  is  wellnigh  impossible  to  find  in 
any  given  cluster  just  where  one  color  stops  and  another 
starts.  It  is  the  same  with  a majority  of  the  hues  of 
nature,  whether  seen  in  the  flowers  beneath  us  or  in  the 
clouds  above  us.  In  fact,  it  is  one  of  the  most  common 
laws  of  sight,  that  when  different  colors  or  different  shades 
of  the  same  color  come  together,  the  line  of  demarkation 
between  them  is  indistinct. 

The  same  fact  of  gradation  is  observable  also  in  out- 
lines. The  very  laws  of  perspective  often  necessitate  this. 


GRADATION  IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC.  269 

As  wc  look  at  the  successive  arches  of  a bridge,  or  of  an 
aqueduct,  we  see  them  gradually  becoming  smaller  and 
smaller.  If  we  look  at  a row  of  trees  that  is  sufficiently 
long,  we  see  it  pass  gradually  into  a narrow  stretch  of 
green.  Two  parallel  outlines,  if  we  continue  to  trace 
them  when  carried  up  toward  the  zenith,  or  toward  the 
horizon,  appear  gradually  to  converge.  Sometimes,  if 
they  ascend  a hill,  though  themselves  perfectly  straight, 
they  seem  gradually  to  pass  into  curves.  A similar  fact 
is  still  more  evident  in  the  outlines  of  forms  not  so 
influenced  by  the  laws  of  perspective.  Think  of  the  innu- 
merable curves  and  angles  and  straight  lines  that  make 
up  the  contour  of  every  mountain,  tree,  bush,  fruit,  flower, 
bird,  beast,  and  man  ; yet  often,  not  even  with  a micro- 
scope, can  one  tell  just  where  one  form  of  line  ceases  and 
another  begins. 

Abruptness  also  is  a characteristic  of  nature.  We  are 
familiar  with  it  as  illustrated  in  the  sudden  cry  of  fright, 
call  of  command,  crash  of  thunder,  or  flash  of  lightning  ; 
in  the  blue  or  gray  of  the  sky  against  the  green  of  the 
trees  or  the  brown  of  the  cliffs ; in  the  dark  of  shadows 
when  they  fall  against  an  object  made  bright  by  the  sun- 
shine ; and  in  the  angles  that  connect  the  limbs  and  bodies 
of  every  plant  and  animal. 

At  the  same  time,  there  are  more  instances  in  nature  of 
transition  than  of  abruptness.  In  the  notes  of  the  same 
bird,  the  conversation  of  the  same  man,  the  colors  of  the 
same  flower,  the  outlines  of  the  same  hill,  abruptness  here 
and  there  usually  introduces  merely  more  sudden  steps  in 
transitions , which,  on  the  whole,  are  in  harmony  with  the 
requirements  of  gradation.  As  a rule,  even  the  green  of 
the  sea  turns  chalky  in  the  shallows,  and  is  churned  to 
foam  before  it  breaks  upon  the  white  cliffs,  and  the  blue 


2/0 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


of  the  zenith  clouds  into  gray  before  it  reaches  the  gray 
hills  on  the  horizon. 

The  arrangement  of  the  methods  on  page  13 1 shows  that 
progress  is  related  to  consonance  and  the  methods  asso- 
cited  with  it  just  as  continuity  is  to  repetition.  Consonance , 
as  we  have  found,  is  repetition  with  an  increment.  Just 
so,  progress  is  continuity  with  an  increment.  The  former 
necessitates  change  ; the  latter  does  not.  At  the  same 
time,  there  can  be  no  progress  without  some  continuity.  A 
song  or  speech  that  did  not  appear  to  be  the  development 
of  some  continuous  melody  or  story,  might  have  move- 
ment, but  it  could  have  no  progress.  So  with  an  object 
of  sight.  When,  after  an  interval  of  time,  a tree  or  a man, 
once  seen,  is  seen  again,  we  can  know  that  either  has  pro- 
gressed only  so  far  as  we  can  recognize  that  the  one  is  the 
same  tree  or  the  other  the  same  man.  That  is  to  say, 
progress  is  the  movement  of  something,  or,  possibly, 
merely  some  one  form  of  a movement  that  is  clearly 
revealed  to  be  a unity.  Gradation  is  a help  to  this  con- 
ception, but  occasional,  especially  intermittent,  abruptness 
is  not  inconsistent  with  it.  The  thunder  and  lightning  of 
an  approaching  storm,  or  the  cries  and  footsteps  of  an  ap- 
proaching mob,  are  abrupt  enough,  yet  they  make  prog- 
ress. They  do  this,  however,  only  when  that  which  is 
abrupt  is  clearly  recognized  to  be  a part  of  a transition 
from  one  phase  of  the  same  movement  to  another. 

Now  to  illustrate  these  characteristics:  In  poetry, 

gradation , like  the  other  methods  considered,  is  exempli- 
fied both  in  the  sense  and  in  the  sound.  Of  the  former, 
we  can  all  recall  instances  in  the  gradual  unfolding  of  the 
plot  which  characterizes  even  ordinary  novels  and  dramas. 
Of  the  latter,  we  have  illustrations  in  all  the  elements  that 
enter  into  sound,  namely  : time,  force,  pitch,  and  quality. 


GRADATION  IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC. 


271 


We  notice  it  wherever  we  find  great  regularity  of  time  or 
rhythm,  with  the  gradual  swelling  and  sinking  and  rising 
and  falling  of  the  accent  and  pitch  which  necessarily  ac- 
company such  a rhythm.  Of  the  same  nature  is  an  effect 
in  quality,  not  hitherto  recognized  as  an  essential  element 
of  poetic  form,  but  to  which  the  ears  of  our  foremost 
poets  in  almost  all  of  their  most  popular  passages — made 
popular  often  solely  because  of  it — seem  to  have  been 
unconsciously  guided.  It  may  be  termed  phonetic  grada- 
tion, and  is  produced  by  an  arrangement  of  vowels  and 
consonants  such  as  to  cause  their  sounds  to  follow  one 
another  in  the  order  in  which  articulation  necessitates  the 
opening  of  the  vocal  passages  of  the  mouth  more  and 
more  from  the  lips  and  tip  of  the  tongue  backward,  or 
else  more  and  more  from  the  back  of  the  mouth  and 
tongue  forward  ; — more  and  more,  that  is,  as  in  the  series 
of  vowels  in  the  words  meet,  met , it,  ate , at,  care , but , 
kite,  are,  got,  aught,  out,  foot,  lute,  boot,  bucher,  ooze ; and  as 
in  the  series  of  consonants  represented  by  b,  (p),  m,  n,  w, 
v,  (f),  d,  (t),  th,  z,  1,  r,  j,  (ch),  g,  (k),  h ; or  else  as  in  series 
of  vowels  or  consonants  the  reverse  of  these.  In  the  fol- 
lowing lines  the  gradation  of  vowels  on  the  emphatic  syl- 
lables is  from  what  we  may  term,  as  thus  explained,  the 
front  tones  to  the  back  tones: 


Here  where  never  came,  alive,  another. 

— By  the  North  Sea  : Swinburne. 

’T  is  better  to  have  loved  and  lost 
Than  never  to  have  loved  at  all. 

- — In  Meinoriam  : Tennyson. 

Kind  hearts  are  more  than  coronets 
And  simple  faith  than  Norman  blood. 

— Clara  Vere  de  Ve re  : Idem. 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


272 

And  in  these,  both  in  vowels  and  consonants,  from  the 
back  to  the  front  tones. 


Ghostless  all  its  gulfs  and  creeks  and  reaches. 

— By  the  North  Sea  : Swinburne. 


Tho’  lost  to  sight,  to  memory  dear. 


— Anon. 


To  shoot  at  crows  is  powder  flung  away. 

— Epistle  to  Hon.  Paid  Methuen  : Gay. 


The  empathic  sounds  are  graded  from  the  back  to  the 
front  tones  in  the  first  of  these  lines,  and  from  the  front 
to  the  back  tones  in  the  second  : 

Odors  of  orange  flowers  and  spice 
Reached  them  from  time  to  time. 

— The  Quadroon  Girl : Longfellow. 


As  distinguished  from  gradation , the  following  may 
illustrate  abruptness  with  transition  both  in  the  sense  and 
sound : 

I marched  to  the  villa,  and  my  men  with  me 
That  evening,  and  we  reach  the  door  and  stand, 

I say — no  it  shoots  through  me  lightning-like 
While  I pause,  breathe,  my  hand  upon  the  latch. 

• — The  Ring  and  the  Book  : Browning. 


And  the  following  shows  abruptness  in  the  sound,  but 
without  transition  : 

Just  writes  to  make  his  barrenness  appear, 

And  strains  from  hard-bound  brains  eight  lines  a year. 

— Epistle  to  Dr.  A rbuthnot : Pope. 


Poetic  expression,  when  most  in  accord  with  gradation , 
involves  merely  the  use  of  those  ordinary  connecting 


ABRUPTNESS  IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC. 


273 


words  and  phrases  with  which  we  are  all  familiar.  Here 
is  a transition , with  some  abruptness  too,  in  the  thought : 

“ Such 

Is  wisdom  to  the  children  of  this  world  ; 

But  we ’ve  no  mind,  we  children  of  the  light, 

To  miss  the  advantage  of  the  golden  mean, 

And  push  things  to  the  steal-point.”  Thus  the  courts. 

Is  it  settled  so  far  ? Settled  or  disturbed, 

Console  yourselves  : ’t  is  like  . . an  instance,  now. 

You ’ve  seen  the  puppets,  of  Place  Navona,  play, — 

Punch  and  his  mate, — how  threats  pass,  blows  are  dealt, 

And  a crisis  comes. 

— The  Ring  and  the  Book  ; Terlium  Quid  : Browning. 


And  here  in  the  sound  or  rhythm  : 

The  cataracts  blow  their  trumpets  from  the  steep, — 

No  more  shall  grief  of  mine  the  season  wrong  : 

I hear  the  echoes  through  the  mountains  throng, 

The  winds  come  to  me  from  the  fields  of  sleep, 

And  all  the  earth  is  gay  ; 

Land  and  sea 

Give  themselves  up  to  jollity, 

And  with  the  heart  of  May 
Doth  every  beast  keep  holiday  ; — 

Thou  child  of  joy 

Shout  round  me,  let  me  hear  thy  shouts,  thou  happy  shepherd 
boy. 

— Ode:  Intimations  of  Immortality  ; Wordsworth. 


Gradation , as  a musical  term,  is  most  commonly  asso- 
ciated with  a regular  increase  or  decrease  of  force.  But 
as  in  poetry,  the  essentials  of  the  method  may  be  exem- 
plified either  in  theme  or  development,  and,  in  the  latter, 
either  in  time,  force,  pitch,  or  quality.  Besides  this,  they 
may  characterize  either  the  melody  or  harmony.  What 
their  effects  are,  however,  seems  to  need  to  be  illustrated, 

18 


274 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


only  so  far  as  they  relate  to  harmony,  or  to  melody  as 
connected  with  this.  It  was  said  in  connection  with 
interchange  that,  in  passing  from  one  cord  to  another, 
especially  if  to  a different  key,  it  is  customary  to  have 
one  of  the  notes  in  both  chords  the  same,  so  that  the  ear, 
recognizing  it  in  both,  can  feel,  notwithstanding  other 
differences  between  them,  that  like  has  been  put  with  like. 
Wherever  we  find  series  of  cords,  or  a melody  that  can 
be  harmonized  by  series  of  chords,  that  follow  one  an- 
other in  this  way,  there  we  find  illustrations  of  gradation. 
Notice  the  successions  of  chords  in  the  examples  of  tran- 
sition given  on  page  275. 

Abruptness  results,  of  course,  wherever  there  are  sudden 
interruptions  and  changes  in  either  theme  or  form,  and 
these  in  either  time,  force,  pitch,  or  quality,  and  in 
either  melody  or  harmony.  Here  is  an  example  of 
harmonic  abruptness  taken  from  Marx’s  “ Musical  Com- 
position,” chap.  vi. 


In  this,  as  will  be  noticed,  the  passage  is  immediate,  i.  e., 
without  any  form  of  transition  from  the  key  of  C natural 
to  that  of  E flat.  In  explanation,  Marx  says  that  “ this 
continuation  is  a phrase  by  itself,  as  it  were  ; a new 
piece  which  takes  up  the  thread  of  the  previous  phrase 
at  a different  place,  and  perhaps  in  a different  sense.  And 
it  is  exactly  because  the  continuation  in  the  third  meas- 
ure is  considered  as  a new  phrase  that  we  consider  the 
new  chord  Ek-g-bjj  at  once  as  a tonic  chord,  though  the 
key  of  E|j  is  only  indicated  by  the  dominant  chord 
bjj-d-f-a^  which  occurs  three  notes  later.” 


TRANSITION  IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC. 


275 


Transition  is  a passage  from  one  key  to  another.  It 
sometimes  necessitates  using  a series  of  chords  in  which 
there  are  effects  like  those  of  interchange  illustrated  on 
page  250;  and  it  always  necessitates  some  application  of 
the  principle  of  gradation.  But  besides  this  it  necessi- 
tates using  certain  chords  in  the  new  key,  and  these  too, 
in  a certain  order,  either  that  of  the  dominant  seventh 
(see  music  on  page  254)  followed  by  the  tonic,  or,  if 
the  transition  needs  to  be  unmistakably  emphasized,  that 
of  the  subdominant  followed  by  the  other  two.  The 
reason  of  this  is  that  the  ear  has  become  so  accustomed 
to  the  order  of  the  notes  in  the  musical  scale  and  of  the 
chords  that  harmonize  them,  that  it  is  only  when  one  hears 
these  latter  in  succession  that  he  can  recognize  in  what  key 
the  music  is,  or,  if  there  have  been  a transition , to  what 
key  this  has  been  made.  The  following  illustrate  common 
methods  of  making  transitions  from  the  major  key  of  C 
natural  to  all  the  other  keys.  It  will  be  noticed  that  every 
chord  in  the  transition  carries  out  the  principle  of  putting 
like  with  like  by  containing  at  least  one  note  which  is  the 
same  as  one  in  the  preceding  chord.  In  order  to  fulfil 
this  condition,  it  is  necessary,  as  a rule,  to  strike  some 
chord  between  that  of  C major  and  the  new  key’s  domi- 
nant seventh.  But  when  this  latter  is  reached,  the  tonic 
of  this  key  is  suggested  at  once,  and  it  would  be  a disap- 
pointment to  the  ear  did  it  not  follow. 


C Db  C D C Eb 


276 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


Now  let  us  glance  at  the  influence,  upon  these  arts,  of 
progress.  As  already  intimated,  this  needs  to  be  distin- 
guished chiefly  from  continuity.  The  latter  in  poetry 
may  be  manifested  in  the  onward  flow  or  sweep  of  any 
details,  however  connected  with  the  story  or  the  style  ; but 
progress  is  manifested  in  the  fact  that  these  details  are  all 
directly  connected  with  the  development  of  the  main  plot. 
H ere  is  continuity  without  progress  : 

On  his  bold  visage  middle  age 
Had  slightly  pressed  its  signet  sage, 

Yet  had  not  quenched  the  open  truth 
And  fiery  vehemence  of  youth  ; 

Froward  and  frolic  glee  was  there, 

The  will  to  do,  the  soul  to  dare, 

The  sparkling  glance,  soon  blown  to  fire, 

Of  hasty  love  or  headlong  ire. 

His  limbs  were  cast  in  manly  mould 
For  hardy  sport  or  contest  bold  ; 

And  tho’  in  peaceful  garb  arrayed 
And  weaponless  except  his  blade, 

His  stately  mean  as  well  implied 
A high-born  heart,  a martial  pride. 

- — - The  Lady  of  the  Lake  : Scott. 

And  here  is  continuity  with  progress  : 

“ A stranger  I,”  the  huntsman  said, 

Advancing  from  the  hazel  shade. 

The  maid,  alarmed,  with  hasty  oar, 

Pushed  her  light  shallop  from  the  shore, 


PROGRESS  IN  POETRY  AND  MUSIC. 


2 77 

And  when  a space  was  gained  between, 

Closer  she  drew  her  bosom’s  screen, 

Then  safe,  tho’  fluttered  and  amazed, 

She  paused  and  on  the  stranger  gazed. 

— Idem. 


Continuity  in  music  is  manifested  wherever,  with  or 
without  variation,  there  is  an  apparent  continuance  of  the 
theme  or  themes  from  which  a composition  as  a whole  is 
developed  ; but  progress,  whenever  in  connection  with 
continuity , there  is  also  an  apparent  advance  in  the  un- 
folding of  the  musical  idea.  In  a symphony  continuity  is 
manifested  in  the  separate  movements  considered  merely 
by  themselves  rather  than  in  all  the  movements  taken 
together  considered  as  parts  of  one  whole.  Exactly  the 
opposite  is  true  of  progress. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


GRADATION,  ABRUPTNESS,  TRANSITION  AND  PROGRESS 
IN  PAINTING,  SCULPTURE,  AND  ARCHITECTURE. 

Gr?dation  in  Light  and  Shade — In  Color — Abruptness — Transition — Con- 
nection between  these  Methods  and  Curved,  Angular,  and  Mixed  Effects 
of  Lines — Reasons  for  the  Extensive  Presence  of  Curves  in  Nature  and 
Art — -Why  the  Curve  is  the  Line  of  Beauty — The  most  Common  Curve 
of  Nature  is  a Literal  Fulfilment  of  the  Method  of  Gradation — As  well 
as  of  all  the  Methods  of  Artistic  Composition — Curvature  as  Applied  to 
the  General  Contour  of  Groups  in  Painting  and  Sculpture,  especially  to 
the  Limbs  of  the  Human  Form — In  Architecture — -Why  Curves  are  less 
Used  in  this  Art — Gradation  in  Combinations  of  Lines  or  Contours — 
Abruptness  in  the  Same — Gradation  in  the  Outlines  of  Architecture  : 
Spires,  Towers,  Foundations — Over  Openings — In  Italian  Towers — 
Lines  of  Lower  and  Upper  Window-Caps,  Gables,  and  Roofs  ; Rounded 
Arches  Below  and  Pointed  Above — The  more  Pointed  Arches  Below — 
Abruptness  less  Appropriate  in  Architecture  than  in  Painting  and 
Sculpture — Progress  in  Painting  and  Sculpture  : False  Methods  of 
Obtaining  the  Effect — Right  Methods — In  Architecture — Conclusion. 

JT  still  remains  for  us  to  examine  the  influence  oi  grada- 
tion, abruptness,  transition,  and  progress  upon  the  arts 
of  sight.  Here,  as  in  all  cases,  gradation  is  one  of  the 
means  of  carrying  out  the  requirements  of  principality, 
central-point , and  massing.  In  the  treatment  of  light  and 
shade,  it  causes  the  brilliancy  of  the  coloring,  from  the 
point  where  there  is  the  greatest  degree  of  illumination,  to 
become  less  and  less  intense  till  it  passes  into  shadow. 
“ Music,”  says  Ruskin,  “must  rise  to  its  utmost  loudness 
and  fall  from  it;  color  must  be  graduated  to  its  extreme 


278 


GRADATION  IN  TAINTING. 


279 


brightness,  and  descend  from  it  ; and  I believe  that  abso- 
lutely perfect  treatment  would  in  either  case  permit  the 
intensest  sound  and  purest  color  only  for  a point  or  for  a 
moment.” 

But  gradation  in  color  is  not  confined  to  the  use  of  light 
and  shade.  It  is  employed  in  connecting  hues  essentially 
different,  the  outlines  of  which,  except  when  greatly  illu- 
mined, are  seldom  perfectly  distinct.  At  most  places, 
especially  where  the  shade  rests,  the  color  of  one  object, 
by  imperceptible  degrees,  is  merged  into  that  of  other 
objects.  Effects  are  thus  made  to  accord  with  those  per- 
ceived in  the  external  world,  as  already  noticed  on 
page  268.  But  it  is  important  to  bear  in  mind,  too,  aside 
from  this,  that,  in  looking  at  any  collection  of  objects,  our 
eyes  are  generally  attracted  to  the  place  where  the  chief 
light  falls,  and  while  they  are  fixed  upon  this  place,  we  see 
very  indistinctly  objects  that  are  not  in  it.  The  endeavor 
of  the  artist  to  represent  the  appearance  of  things  when 
the  eyes  are  fixed  thus  upon  one  of  them,  is  that  which 
justifies  his  making  this  more  bright  and  prominent  as 
contrasted  with  its  surroundings  than  seems  to  be  the 
case  in  nature.  But  this  seems  so  in  nature,  because, 
when  observing  it,  our  eyes  look  not  at  one  thing,  but 
glance  restlessly  from  it  to  other  things. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  add  that  the  requirements  of 
gradation  are  not  so  universally  applicable  as  to  exclude 
an  occasional  use  of  abruptness  manifested  by  sharp  con- 
trasts of  colors.  As  a rule,  the  brighter  the  light  illumin- 
ing an  object,  the  more  distinctly  are  its  peculiar  colors 
revealed  and  the  darker  are  the  shadows  cast  by  it  upon 
surrounding  colors.  In  such  conditions,  the  lines  that 
separate  one  shade  from  another  are  very  clear,  and  the 
representation  of  these  necessitates  placing  one  color 


2 SO 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


directly  against  the  other,  with  no  suggestion  of  gradation. 
As  a rule,  however,  colors  that  are  placed  together  even 
in  this  abrupt  way  must  be  such  as  naturally  harmonize. 

But  sometimes,  of  course,  they  cannot  harmonize,  nor 
be  made  to  do  it,  and  then  it  is  important  to  consider  the 
method  of  transition.  When  this  cannot  be  effected,  as 
in  gradation , by  changing  the  colors  themselves,  and 
causing  them  to  approach  one  another  by  regular  degrees, 
either  the  course  must  be  adopted  which  was  described  on 
page  251,  under  the  name  of  interchange,  or  else  a color 
harmonic  with  both,  must  be  placed  between  them.  Here 
is  the  way  in  which  this  latter  method  is  described  by 
Charles  Blanc,  in  his  “ Grammar  of  Painting  and  Engrav- 
ing,” chapter  xiii.,  as  translated  by  K.  N.  Doggett.  In 
speaking  of  the  use  of  color,  he  says : “ In  one  of  the  pen- 
dentives  that  so  magnificently  decorate  the  Library  of  the 
Corps  Legislatif,  the  executioner  who  has  cut  off  the  head 
of  John  the  Baptist  is  dressed  in  red  and  blue,  two  colors 
whose  juxtaposition  is  softened  by  a little  white,  which 
unites  them  without  sacrificing  the  energy  suitable  to  the 
figure  of  an  executioner.  Thus  we  realize  a rare  harmony 
that  of  the  tricolor  flag.  Zeigler  has  observed  that  this 
flag,  spread  out  horizontally,  represents  a discordant 
whole,  but  through  the  effects  of  the  folds  the  quantities 
become  unequal,  and,  one  color  dominating  another,  har- 
mony is  produced.  The  wind  that  agitates  the  stuff  in 
varied  undulations  makes  the  three  colors  pass  through 
all  the  attempts  at  proportion  that  an  intelligent  artist 
can  make.” 

As  applied  to  the  use  of  lines,  gradation,  abruptness,  and 
transition  respectively  are  the  principles,  the  developments 
of  which  lead  to  curved,  angular,  and  mixed  effects.  A 
line  in  art  indicates  a certain  direction.  Gradation  is  that 


GRAD  A TION  IN  PAINTING. 


28 1 

which  produces  a change  by  regular  degrees.  When  the 
character  of  a line  is  changed  by  regular  degrees  we  have 
a curve.  If  it  be  changed  without  regard  to  these  de- 
grees we  have  an  angle  ; and  if  it  be  changed  both  with 
and  without  regard  to  them  we  have  a mixed  effect. 

Gradation  is  so  common  in  nature  and  art,  that  we 
should  expect  the  same  to  be  true  of  the  curve  which 
represents  it  in  outline.  Such  is  the  case.  All  the  con- 
ditions of  sight  tend  toward  this  result.  The  retina,  on 
which  every  image  of  the  external  world  is  impressed,  has 
a rounded  surface.  So  has  the  outer  eye.  In  con- 
sequence of  this,  the  field  of  vision,  lying  before  any  one 
glance  of  sight,  can  be  inscribed  in  curves.  So,  if  suf- 
ficiently remote,  can  all  objects  even  though  their  out- 
lines are  not  curved, — objects  like  the  hills  that  circle 
the  horizon,  or  the  tail  of  the  comet  in  the  sky.  If  we 
examine  a small  object  near  at  hand,  we  see  all  its  outlines 
distinctly  in  the  degree  in  which  these  conform  to  the 
rounded  shape  of  the  organs  of  vision.  If  we  look  at  the 
centre  of  a wheel,  every  part  of  its  tire  is  equally  visible.  If 
we  look  at  the  centre  of  a square,  its  four  angles,  in  the 
degree  in  which  it  is  large,  are  indistinct.  Hence,  for  a 
psychological  reason,  because,  in  such  cases,  the  mind  can 
more  readily  perceive  and  understand  what  the  contour  is, 
curved  forms  afford  the  most  satisfaction.  It  is  not 
strange,  therefore,  that  the  same  Power  that  formed  the 
eye  has  conformed  to  its  requirements  most  of  the  out- 
lines of  the  natural  world. 

When,  in  addition  to  this,  we  consider  the  unending 
possibilities  of  variety  afforded  by  the  curve,  and  the 
infinite  suggestions  of  direction  pointed  out  as  by  fingers 
of  light  wherever  it  deviates  from  a straight  line,  we  know 
enough  to  account  for  the  fact  universally  conceded  that 


282 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


the  curve  is  the  line  of  beauty.  This  is  true  whether 
applied  to  separate  parts  of  objects  or  to  their  wholes,  to 
a single  leaf  or  to  a cluster  of  leaves,  to  a branch  or  to  a 
cluster  of  branches,  to  a tree  or  to  a grove,  to  a particular 
object  that  may  be  examined  near  at  hand,  or  to  general 
outlines  described  by  trees  and  rivers  in  the  distance. 
The  same  is  true,  too,  of  every  member  and  limb,  as  well 
as  of  the  whole  body,  of  every  bird  or  animal.  All  these 
natural  objects  are  beautiful,  largely  because  of  the  infinite 
number  and  variety  of  their  curves. 


It  is  well  to  notice,  too,  that,  as  a rule,  the  lines  of 
curvature  in  natural  objects  are  not  perfectly  circular,  any 
more  than  the  lines  of  radiation  or  parallelism  are  per- 
fectly straight.  On  the  contrary,  the  most  common  out- 
line in  nature  is  said,  by  Ruskin,  “ Modern  Painters,”  vol. 
iv.,  p.  5,  chap.  17,  to  be  a curve  so  described  as  to  have  a 
constant  tendency  to  become  straight,  although  it  may 
never  become  so.  Figs.  91,  above,  and  92,  page  opposite, 
according  to  him,  represent  curves  of  this  description. 


GRADA  TION  IN  PAINTING. 


283 


In  Figure  91,  the  angles  at  a,  b,  c,  d , and  e 
are  in  each  case  the  same,  the  line  a — b , be- 
comes regularly  shorter  than  b — c,  and  so  on. 
In  the  direction  of  g,  the  curve  a — g evidently 
inclines  more  and  more  to  differ  from  the 
requirements  of  a circle,  and  any  small  portion 
of  it,  to  conform  more  and  more  to  the  direction 
of  a straight  line.  In  Fig.  92,  the  distance 
between  the  lines  A — a and  B — b and  C — c, 
etc.,  is  the  same,  but  the  curved  line*? — b 
becomes  regularly  shorter  than  b — c,  and 
so  on.  It  is  evident  that  in  this  figure  the 
curve  a — g,  while  constantly  approaching 
the  form  of  a straight  line  can  never 
become  one. 

Why  curves  of  this  kind  are  seen  so 
frequently  in  nature,  and  why,  when  they 
are  seen,  they  are  considered  especially 
satisfactory,  has  been  often  asked.  Can 
the  question  not  be  answered  in  this 
connection  by  saying  that  the  “ con- 
stant tendency  ” to  become  straight 
which  they  manifest  causes  them  to 
fulfil,  perfectly,  the  requirements  of 
gradation.  Notice,  too,  that  in  doing 
this,  they  necessarily  fulfil  the 
requirements  of  most  of  the 
other  methods  developed  from 
comparison.  In  the  first  figure, 
the  angles  at  a,  b,  c,  etc.,  are  the 
same,  and  in  the  second  figure 
the  distances  between  the  lines 
A — a , B — b,  C — c,  etc.,  are  the 


FIG.  92.— A CURVE  EXEMPLIFYING 
GRADATION. 


284 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


same.  The  principle  of  repetition,  therefore,  enters  into 
these  curves,  notwithstanding  the  constant  tendency 
that  they  show  to  move  in  a partly  new  direction.  Each 
of  the  curves,  too,  is  so  constructed  that  any  given 
part  of  it  can  be  magnified  so  as  to  represent  exactly 
f —g.  There  is  therefore  a sense  in  which  these  curves 
are  in  accordance  with  the  method  also  of  consonance.  It 
is  not  necessary  to  show  that  if  they  involve  repetition  and 
consonance,  they  involve,  as  well,  almost  all,  if  not  all  the 
other  methods  that  on  page  13 1 are  associated  with  these. 

From  what  was  said  in  Chapter  X.  in  connection  with 
central-point  as  related  to  the  laws  of  perspective,  as 
well  as  of  symmetry  in  Chapter  XI.,  we  must  infer  that 
the  principle  of  curvature  must  be  fulfilled  in  successful 
art,  not  only  in  such  away  as  to  cause  the  separate  objects 
represented  to  seem  to  have  the  same  rounded  appear- 
ances as  in  nature,  but  in  the  arrangements  of  objects  as 
related  to  one  another  ; in  other  words,  not  only  in  imitat- 
ing particular  forms  but  also  in  composition,  where  many 
different  forms  not  actually  curved  in  nature  are  put 
together.  It  would  not  be  pleasing,  for  instance,  to  see 
a group  of  human  figures  so  arranged  that  a straight  line 
drawn  across  the  top  or  bottom  of  it  would  touch  the 
crown  of  every  head  or  the  toe  of  every  foot.  The  eye 
seems  to  require  an  arrangement  whereby  the  more 
central  heads  shall  be  a little  higher  than  those  on  either 
side  of  them  ; in  short,  whereby  the  general  contour  of 
the  group  as  a whole  shall  be  curved,  and  similar  in  this 
regard  to  the  contour  of  flowers,  trees,  groves,  mountains, 
living  creatures,  and,  in  fact,  of  almost  all  natural  objects, 
whether  animate  or  inanimate. 

In  painting,  as  also  in  sculpture,  as  can  be  shown  from 
such  works  as  the  “Theseus,”  Fig.  93,  page  285,  very 


GRADATION  IN  PAINTING. 


285 


striking  effects  are  obtained  by  the  ways  in  which  the 
infinite  curves  that  make  up  the  contour  of  the  human 
form  are  rounded  and  blended,  exemplifying  thus  not  only 
gradation  in  the  curves,  but  transition  in  the  mixed  lines. 
Besides  this,  the  nose,  elbow,  knee,  and  heel  all  sufficiently 
illustrate  abruptness.  There  are  those  who,  in  view  of 
the  apparent  fulfilment  of  law  in  all  such  cases,  think  that 


FI3.  93.— STATUE  OF  THESEUS. 
See  page  284. 


the  whole  form  and  its  separate  parts  can  be  drawn  accord- 
ing to  mathematical  principles  underlying  the  laws  chiefly 
of  curvature.  D.  R.  Hay,  in  his  works  on  the  “ First 
Principles  of  Symmetrical  Beauty,”  and  on  “ The  Human 
Figure  and  the  Human  Head,”  has  given  an  ingenious 
and  exceedingly  interesting  series  of  drawings  intended 
to  prove  that  this  is  so.  He  tries  to  show,  too,  that 


286 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


Greek  sculpture  was  developed  from  principles  similar  to 
those  that  he  unfolds.  For  reasons  that  it  would  be  irrele- 
vant to  give  here,  he  is  probably  mistaken  in  this  latter 
opinion.  The  proportions  of  Greek  sculpture  were  by  no 
means  the  same  in  different  products  and  periods  ; show- 
ing that  although,  like  our  own,  the  Greek  artists  may 
have  had  their  theories  with  reference  to  the  subject, 
these  were  not  universally  accepted.  A large  part  of 
their  success  in  practice,  too,  must  have  been  owing, 
in  strict  analogy  with  what  would  be  true  in  our  own 
time,  to  rare  perceptive  powers  and  to  exceptional 
opportunities  for  observing  the  unclothed  human  form 
afforded  by  the  baths,  festivals,  and  sports  of  the  period. 
But  there  is  much  in  what  Mr.  Hay  says  that  is  sugges- 
tive and  instructive. 

In  architecture,  the  methods  of  curvature  are  applied 
to  only  a limited  extent,  and  mainly  to  the  decoration  of 
interiors,  where  the  processes  employed,  as  when  laying 
out  parks  and  gardens,  are  more  allied  to  drawing  and 
painting  than  to  building.  The  Greeks,  indeed,  in  order 
to  carry  out  the  laws  of  perspective,  made  many  of  the 
apparently  horizontal  lines  of  their  buildings  slightly 
curved,  but  in  doing  this  they  can  scarcely  be  said  to 
have  applied  the  methods  of  curvature  to  exteriors,  their 
object  being  not  to  make  any  lines  appear  curved,  but  to 
prevent  them  from  appearing  so.1  Of  course,  there  are 
curves  used  in  architecture,  as  in  rounded  arches  and 
domes  ; but  these  are  not  so  frequently,  as  in  the  other 
arts,  curves  that  have  a constant  tendency  to  become 
straight.  They  are  usually  larger  or  smaller  arches  of 
regularly  constructed  circles.  The  purely  artistic  reason 


1 See  page  176. 


GRADATION  IN  PAINTING.  2 87 

for  this  absence  of  curves  is  that  too  much  variety  of  this 
kind  is  less  desirable  here  than  in  the  other  arts. 

Painting  and  sculpture  imitate  the  forms  of  nature,  and 
if  an  artist  find  irregularity  in  these,  this  fact  is  an  excuse 
for  his  copying  it.  But  the  forms  of  architecture  are  not 
imitated.  They  are  originated  by  man,  as  a result  of  that 
faculty  of  the  mind  by  which  he  reduces  to  systematic 
unity  and  order  appearances  that  do  not  manifest  these 
in  nature.  In  such  circumstances,  if  architectural  forms 
do  not  show  unity  and  order,  and  show  it  in  a marked 
degree,  they  simply  do  not  accomplish  the  end  for  which 
they  were  designed  ; and  nothing  that  does  not  do  this 
can  be  called  a success. 

Gradation  is  manifested  not  only  in  the  use  of  single 
lines  but  of  combined  ones  as,  for  instance,  in  series  of 
curves  and  angles,  the  different  sides  of  which  depart  in 
regular  degrees  from  exact  parallelism.  In  his  cartoon 
depicting  “The  Death  of  Ananias,”  Raphael,  (Fig.  94 
page  288)  causes  the  terror  of  the  principal  figure 
to  be  manifested  in  similar  attitudes  of  the  figures  on 
both  sides  of  Ananias,  but  as  they  gradually  recede  into 
the  background,  their  expressions  and  attitudes  become 
less  and  less  indicative  of  the  feeling  at  the  centre  of 
interest. 

In  fulfilment  of  the  same  method,  both  in  painting  and 
sculpture,  the  hundreds  of  curves  that  together  constitute 
the  contour  of  the  human  body  are  made  to  pass  into  one 
another,  causing  its  members  gradually  to  expand  or  taper. 
Yet  there  are  places,  as  at  the  heel,  where  the  transitions 
are  very  abrupt.  The  number  of  these  is  often  increased 
with  great  effect  by  the  introduction,  in  connection  with 
both  living  figures  and  foliage,  of  scarfs,  bands,  girdles, 
and  folds  in  the  drapery,  or  of  rectangular  lines  of  archi- 


FIG.  94. — THE  DEATH  OF  ANANIAS. — Cartoon  ey  Raphae^. 
See  pages  72,  144,  257,  287,  297. 


GRADA  TIUN  IN  ARCHITECTURE. 


289 


tecture  which  in  pillars,  entablatures,  niches,  and  pedestals 
surround  or  support  the  figures.  See  those  on  pp.  30, 

41,  74,  12 1. 

Both  these  methods  have  a place  too  in  architecture. 
All  must  have  noticed  that  perpendicular  lines  when  car- 


FIG.  95.  — DOORWAY  OF  A CHURCH  IN  JAK,  HUNGARY. 
See  pages  180,  291. 


ried  into  the  air,  as  in  the  case  of  two  sides  of  a square 
tower,  seem  to  approach  each  other ; also  that  when  two 
sides  of  a roof  actually  touch,  they  support  each  other. 
Evidently  artists  are  only  carrying  out  hints  from  these 
facts  when  they  widen  the  sides  of  a tower's  base  and 
*9 


FIQ.  96. — ARCH  IN  THE  ALJAFERIA  OF  ZARAGOZA,  SPAIN. 

See  pages,  37,  180,  291. 


GRADATION  IN  ARCHITECTURE. 


29 1 

make  them  narrower  at  the  top,  thus  increasing  its  appa- 
rent height  ; or  when  they  cause  the  sides  actually  to  meet 
in  the  spire  or  steep  gable  at  its  top,  thus  increasing  also 
the  ease  of  construction.  Many  great  buildings,  like  the 
cathedrals  and  palaces  of  Europe,  are  designed  according 
to  the  first  of  these  methods.  The  basements  are  made 
visibly  broader  than  the  superstructures,  and  the  lines  of 
enclosure,  as  they  are  carried  up  at  both  sides,  are  gradu- 
ally brought  nearer  together.  See  Fig.  2,  page  17. 

The  method  of  gradation  is  illustrated  also,  though 
probably  not  often  intentionally,  in  those  cases  so  fre- 
quent in  Gothic  architecture,  in  which,  over  the  same 
opening,  a rounded  arch  is  used  immediately  below  a 
pointed  one.  An  admirable  adaptation  of  this  method, 
revealing  many  successive  stages  of  change,  may  be  noticed 
m the  “ Doorway  of  a Church  in  Jak,  Hungary,”  Fig.  95, 
page  289.  Gradation  of  an  opposite  kind,  in  that  the 
sharper  form  is  at  the  bottom,  may  be  seen  in  “The 
Arch  from  the  Aljaferia  of  Zaragoza,  in  Spain,”  Fig.  96, 
page  290. 

A recognition  of  the  effectiveness  of  gradation  as  a 
method,  undoubtedly  explains  the  regular  increase  in  the 
number  of  windows  in  each  successively  higher  story  that 
is  common  in  Italian  towers.  Evidently  their  builders 
first  recognized  that  the  lower  stories  needed  to  be  con- 
structed more  solidly  in  order  to  sustain  a greater  weight ; 
afterwards,  their  artistic  sense  led  them  to  the  method  of 
form  which  they  adopted,  and  which,  as  all  will  perceive, 
gives  to  the  whole  a peculiarly  logical  and  therefore 
orderly  and  unifying  effect.  Notice  the  tower  of  the 
“Cathedral  of  Sienna,”  Fig.  97,  page  292,  also  the  front 
facade  of  the  same  cathedral,  in  which  an  application  of 
this  method  is  suggested  in  the  difference  between  the 


FIG.  97. — CATHEDRAL  OF  SIENNA,  ITALY. 
See  pages  1 8,  87,  207,  261,  291. 


GRADATION  IN  ARCHITECTURE. 


293 


angles  over  the  doors  and  those  in  the  roof,  the  latter 
being  the  sharper. 

Why  is  it,  by  the  way,  that  this  method  of  gradation 
has  not  been  applied  to  facades  more  extensively  ? Why, 
especially  in  our  own  times,  when  so  many  are  busying 
themselves  in  trying  to  discover  a “ new  style”  of  archi- 
tecture, has  no  one  thought  of  developing  the  possibilities 
of  this  ? Here  is  an  opportunity  for  doing  something  that 
has  never  been  done  before.  It  would  differ  too  from 
most  things  of  the  kind,  in  that  it  could  be  done  in  strict 
fulfilment  of  every  law  of  the  sphere  in  which  it  would 
be  attempted.  Experience  has  revealed  that  in  buildings 
constructed  of  stone  and  brick,  the  rounded  arch  is  capa- 
ble of  sustaining  more  weight  than  the  sharply  pointed 
one.  For  this  reason,  the  former  is  appropriately  used  in 
crypts,  basements,  and  lower  stories.  It  has  been  found 
also  that  roofs  with  steep  gables  are  the  best  adapted  for 
shedding  the  snow  that  accumulates  upon  them  in  the 
winter  of  a cold  climate.  Besides  this,  it  is  known  that 
when  height  is  an  object,  the  pointed  gable  or  spire,  all 
things  considered,  is  the  most  beautiful  as  well  as  the  most 
easy  to  construct.  Between  the  round  arches  of  the  first 
story  and  the  pointed  arches  of  the  roof  and  spire  there  is 
often  great  difference.  In  order  to  connect  the  two  in  a 
manner  satisfactory  to  artistic  demands,  it  is  strange  that 
the  artistic  propriety  of  increasing  the  pitch  of  the  window- 
caps  in  successive  stories  by  regular  gradations  has  not  been 
formally  recognized.  For  instance,  the  arches  over  the 
openings  of  the  first  story  could  be  made  nearly  horizontal, 
those  of  the  second  story  more  rounded,  those  of  the  third 
more  rounded  still,  and  those  of  the  upper  story  pointed. 

No  buildings  exist,  probably,  that,  as  wholes,  illustrate 
this  method  ; but,  if  we  exclude  from  consideration  the 


FIG.  98.  — RATH  HOUSE,  BRUNSWICK,  GERMANY. 

See  page  295. 


GRADATION  IN  ARCHITECTURE.  295 

lower  story  of  the  “ Rath  House  of  Brunswick,  Germany,” 
(Fig.  98,  page  294),  the  upper  stories  will  reveal  some- 
thing of  the  effect  that  is  here  suggested.  The  same 
may  be  seen,  too,  as  applied  to  interiors,  in  the  successive 
arches  of  the  Church  of  San  Pedro  de  Cardena  (Fig.  99, 
page  296). 

An  effect,  the  reverse  of  these,  in  which  the  order  of 
gradation  is  from  a sharper  arch  upward  to  a flatter  one, 
may  be  seen  in  the  front  of  the  Church  of  St.  Maclou  at 
Rouen,  where,  of  three  angles,  the  one  over  the  lower 
front  door  is  the  most  acute,  one  over  a large  window 
above  somewhat  less  acute,  and  one  higher  up  over  the 
roof  the  least  acute  of  the  three  (Fig.  ioo,  page  298). 

It  is  to  be  said,  however,  that  the  effect  of  gradations 
in  this  direction  from  a higher  arch  upward  to  a lower 
arch  is  less  artistic  than  of  those  in  the  opposite  direction. 
As  has  been  said,  the  rounded  arch  is  the  one  fitted  to 
sustain  the  greater  weight,  and  the  sharp  arch  in  the  roof 
is  the  one  that  affords  the  better  watershed.  Besides 
this,  too,  as  a rule,  the  outlines  of  hills,  trees,  and  living 
creatures  taper  toward  their  highest  points.  The  effects 
of  works  of  arts,  even  where  they  involve  no  direct  imita- 
tion, should  correspond  as  far  as  possible  to  both  the 
principles  and  appearances  of  nature.  It  seems  desirable, 
therefore,  that  the  order  of  gradation  from  the  lower 
to  the  higher  stories  should  be  the  one  that  was  first 
described. 

\\  hat  was  said,  a few  pages  back,  of  the  use  of  curva- 
ture in  architecture,  is  equally  applicable  to  abruptness  in 
the  introduction  of  forms  of  different  styles.  Though 
appropriate  occasionally,  as  was  shown  when  treating  of 
antithesis,  page  31,  it  is  much  less  appropriate  than  in 
painting  and  sculpture.  In  the  latter  arts,  one  is  often 


FIG.  99.— INTERIOR  OF  SAN  PEDRO  DE  CARDENA,  SPAIN, 

See  page  295. 


PROGRESS  IN  PAINTING. 


297 


at  liberty  to  imitate  abruptness  or  any  other  condition,  if 
only  it  be  found  in  nature  ; but  in  an  art  in  which  men  do 
not  take  forms  ready-made,  and  the  object  of  which  is  to 
reduce  things  to  systematic  and  intelligible  order,  artists 
must  be  especially  careful  to  have  it  appear  that  this  has 
been  done. 

Turning  now  to  progress,  it  is  comparatively  easy  to 
understand  how  this  may  be  secured  in  poetry  and  music, 
the  forms  of  which  consist  of  words  and  sounds  necessi- 
tating movement.  But  in  painting,  sculpture,  and  archi- 
tecture, there  is  no  literal  movement.  If  they  represent 
with  fidelity  things  as  they  appear  in  nature,  they  can 
only  reproduce  that  which  takes  place  in  a single  moment 
of  time.  There  are,  indeed,  paintings  in  which  more 
than  this  is  attempted.  A fresco  in  the  Sistine  Chapel  in 
Rome,  by  Boticelli,  entitled  “The  History  of  Moses,” 
represents  the  prophet  in  six  or  seven  different  situations 
at  different  periods  of  his  life  ; and  one  in  the  Campo 
Santo  at  Pisa,  by  Benozzo  Gozzoii,  entitled  “ Noah  and 
his  Family,”  gives  us  at  least  three  different  events  in  the 
life  of  that  patriarch.  But  such  paintings  have  never 
ranked  high  in  art.  It  seems  to  be  recognized  that  they 
are  not  faithful  reproductions  of  nature,  and  are  therefore 
artificial. 

I11  contrast  to  these,  Raphael’s  “ Death  of  Ananias,”  Fig. 
94,  page  288,  will  show  us  how  there  can  be  progress  and 
yet  no  literal  movement.  That  which  is  represented  in 
the  cartoon  could  take  place  at  one  moment  of  time.  Yet 
at  this  moment  the  idea,  forcibly  impressing  those  nearest 
the  principal  figure,  has  not  taken  possession  of  those 
remote  from  him.  The  picture  represents,  therefore,  dif- 
ferent stages  of  progress  in  the  development  of  the  idea, 
or  of  the  influence  exerted  by  it  ; and  it  is  almost  impos- 


298 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


siblc  to  conceive  of  any  painting  or  statue,  however  small, 
in  which  the  progress  of  the  idea  in  its  advance  to  take 

possession  of  the 
whole  body  of  the 
subject  or  subjects, 
might  not  be  repre- 
sented in  an  analo- 
gous way.  In  a 
human  figure,  the 
expression  o f the 
face  may  be  in  ad- 
vance of  that  of  the 
arms  or  hands,  the 
expressions  of  these 
in  advance  of  that  of 
the  lower  limbs,  while 
at  the  same  time  the 
adjustments  of  the 
clothing  may  give 
scarcely  any  indica- 
tions of  that  which 
has  begun  to  in- 
fluence the  body  un- 
derneath it.  (Fig.  45.) 

Nor  is  it  less  possi- 
ble to  represent  the 
effects  of  progress  in 
buildings.  In  many 
of  the  English  cathe- 


FIQ.  100.-ST.  MACLOU,  ROUEN,  FRANCE.  drals  the  whole  de- 

See  page  ~95'  velopment  of  Gothic 

architecture  from  the  Norman,  through  the  pointed, 
decorated,  and  perpendicular,  can  be  traced  literally  in 


PROGRESS  IN  ARCHITECTURE. 


299 


the  different  forms  used  in  different  parts.  But  progress 
in  such  a literal  sense  is  not  essential,  nor  is  it  always 
consistent  with  unity.  When,  according  to  the  method 
of  gradation  described  a moment  ago,  one  form  of  arch 
is  used  above  the  lower  openings,  and  another  sharper 
development  of  the  same  over  higher  openings,  and 
another  still  sharper  over  the  highest,  we  have  a repre- 
sentation of  progress  of  a more  desirable  kind.  So, 
too,  we  have  the  same  in  the  interior  of  a cathedral, 
when  the  arches  above  seem  to  grow  like  limbs  of 
trees  out  of  the  shafts  below  them,  and  when  the  chancel 
beyond  the  nave,  to  which  so  many  lines  of  the  walls 
and  ceiling  point,  seems,  with  its  finer  elaboration  of 
the  resources  of  outline  and  its  grander  wealth  of  color 
in  window  and  altar,  to  burst  upon  the  vision  like  a flower, 
for  which  all  the  rest  has  furnished  only  a splendid  prep- 
aration for  unfoldment.  In  these  and  other  ways,  there 
are  buildings  so  constructed,  that  they  seem  to  be  almost 
as  much  the  results  of  growth  and,  in  this  sense,  of 
progress  as  do  products  of  nature  with  which  we  are 
accustomed  to  associate  the  term  growth. 

At  the  opening  of  this  volume,  in  Chapter  II.,  it  was 
shown  that  the  first  efforts  of  the  mind  in  the  direction  of 
art-composition  are  made  for  the  purpose  of  securing 
effects  of  unity , in  order  to  accommodate  the  result  to 
the  requirements  of  human  conception.  It  was  shown 
also  that  the  occasion  for  these  efforts  arises  from  the 
variety  everywhere  characterizing  the  natural  forms  of 
which  the  artist  is  obliged  to  construct  his  products. 
Everything  that  has  been  unfolded  between  that  chapter 
and  this,  has  been  a description  of  different  methods  of 
arrangement  through  which  factors  of  a form,  while 
exhibiting  variety , can,  nevertheless,  be  made  to  exhibit 


300 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


unity.  But  in  none  of  these  methods  has  there  been 
necessitated  such  an  absolute  blending  of  the  appearances 
of  the  two  as  in  progress.  In  this  the  variety  which  in 
most  of  the  arrangements  is  accepted  as  a necessary  and 
accidental  evil,  becomes  essential.  As  just  stated  on 
page  270  there  can  be  no  progress  except  of  something 
that  is  clearly  recognized  to  be  a unity.  But  it  is  equally 
true  that  there  can  be  none  except  as  that  which  is  a unity 
is  perceived  to  be  characterized  by  variety  also.  In  pro- 
gress therefore  all  the  methods  of  art-composition  that  we 
have  been  considering  seem  to  culminate.  We  could  con- 
tinue our  subject  from  this  point,  as  was  intimated  in 
Chapter  VIII.,  only  by  taking  up  rhythm, proportion,  and 
harmony.  But  each  of  these  differs  in  character  from  the 
methods  hitherto  considered.  It  is  a complex  result  in- 
volving invariably  an  application  of  all  of  them  in  com- 
bination, yet  springing  from  them  only  so  far  as  the  mind 
is  necessarily  and  often  unconsciously  moved  to  its  action 
by  the  principles  underlying  them.  For  these  reasons  a 
satisfactory  discussion  of  any  phase  of  our  subject  beyond 
what  has  already  been  considered,  seems  to  demand  a 
different  mode  of  treatment.  It  is  fitting,  therefore, 
that  the  course  of  thought  pursued  in  the  present  volume 
should  here  be  brought  to  a close. 


INDEX 


Abruptness,  131,  249,  266,  295,  297; 
color,  279  ; lines,  280  ; nature,  269. 

Accent,  42,  50,  130,  131,  169,  171, 
194,  195,  198,  252,  271. 

Adams,  S.  F.,  42. 

Address  of  Dying  Christian  to  his 
Soul,  104. 

ZEnead,  The,  53. 

Aldrich,  T.  B.,  107. 

Alhambra,  Window  in,  37,  222,  225, 
236. 

Aljaferia,  Zaragoza,  Arch  in,  37, 
180,  290,  291. 

Allegri,  Gregorio,  30. 

Alliteration,  16,  195,  251. 

Alteration,  131,  189-206. 

Alternation,  131,  192-206,  222,  268. 

American,  church,  90,  92  ; cathe- 
dral, 92-95, 

Ananias,  Death  of,  72,  144,  257,  287, 
297- 

Ancient  Koran  case  from  Escurial 
Library,  37,  38,  224. 

Angelo,  M.,  6. 

Angles,  281.  See  Arches  and  Cur- 
vature. 

Antithesis,  28,  31,  139.  See  Contrast. 

Arabian  complication,  224. 

Araminta,  25. 

Arbuthnot,  Epistle  to,  272. 

Arches,  124,  245,  286  ; consonance, 
258-265  ; contour,  115,  159  ; flat, 
sharp,  gradation,  291-295.  See 
Curvature. 

Architecture,  Art  of  : abruptness, 
295,  297  ; alteration,  26,  189,  258  ; 
alternation,  201,  205,  265  ; bal- 
ance, complement,  48,  77,  78.  85- 
go,  185  ; cathedral,  95  ; central- 
point,  176,  1 86  ; church,  92,  95  ; 


comparison,  16,  18,  26,  134,  149, 
206,  258  ; complication,  222,  224, 
235,  23b,  238  ; confusion,  37,  207, 

264  ; congruity,  144,  146,  149  ; 
consonance,  257-264  ; continuity, 
178,  239-241  ; contour,  122-124  ; 
contrast,  26,  28,  31,  189,  190,  264, 

265  ; contrasted  with  painting, 
258,  287  ; curvature,  176,  286, 
291-295  ; design,  241,  257,  258, 
287,  291  ; dignity,  87,  186,  187  ; 
discord,  260,  262,  264  ; dome,  76, 
77  ; Gothic,  17,  89,  144,  146,  206, 
242,  291,  298  ; gradation,  291- 
295  ; Greek,  16,  87,  89,  96,  176, 
206,  261,  286;  interspersion,  78, 
221,  222,  224,  241  ; like  with  like, 
9,  16,  18,  26,  134,  148,  206,  210, 
257  ; massing,  218-219  1 Moorish, 
144,  236  ; order,  241,  257,  287, 
297  ; organic  form,  44,  122— 124  ; 
organism,  258  ; oriental,  18  ; ori- 
gin of,  4,  5 ; parallelism,  180,  18 r, 
261  ; perspective,  176,  178,  286  ; 
principality,  45,  50,  75-78,  178, 
220  ; progress,  298  ; repetition, 
26,  201,  206,  208;  setting,  180; 
stories,  96,  291  ; style,  205,  257  ; 
mixed  styles,  146,  148,  149,  205- 
208,  295  ; new  styles,  206,  293  ; 
symmetry,  87,  89,  96,  186,  187  ; 
themes,  development  of,  4-6,  44, 
45,  50,  76,  77,  122-124,  133,  146, 
149,  176,  178,  185,  210,  218,  298- 
300  ; towers,  76,  77,  87,  89-92  ; 
uneven  numbers  in,  96  ; unity,  15, 
16,  77,  148,  241,  265,  287  ; variety, 
26,  186,  189.  See  Contrast. 

Architecture,  Lectures  on,  123  ; 
Seven  Lamps  of,  219. 


301 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART- FORM. 


302 

Arch,  Roman,  146. 

Arden,  Enoch,  137. 

Arrangement,  34,4s,  50,  1 1 5 , 2S4. 

See  Grouping  and  Organic  Form. 
Art  in  Ornament  and  Dress,  39,  132, 
204,  224. 

Art  of  Painting,  214. 

Artist,  representation  of  self,  9. 
Ascension,  The,  257. 

Association,  3,  4,  37,  127,  144,  148, 
183,  243. 

Assonance,  16,  195. 

As  through  the  land  at  eve  we  went, 
107. 

Athens,  Market  of,  79,  120-122,  289. 
Baker,  T.,  250. 

Balance,  33,  39,  45,  46,  97,  99,  126, 
130,  131,  134,  154,  155,  171,  180, 
185,  186,  192,  214,  222,  268  ; ar- 
chitecture, 78,  79,  85-90,  186  ; 
music,  66,  68  ; painting,  48  ; 1 

poetry,  61,  63,  79  ; sculpture,  84. 
Balanced  confusion,  132. 

Ballade  of  Sea  Folk,  197. 
Bannockburn,  59. 

Barateau,  107. 

Barham,  R.  H.,  230. 

Bars,  musical,  64. 

Bartolommeo,  Fra,  72,  185. 

Bashful  Suitor,  The,  255. 

Bas-relief,  218. 

Battle  Hymn  of  Republic,  no,  199. 
Beauty,  defined,  12. 

Becker,  C.,  72,  174,  181. 

Beecher,  H.  W.,  113. 

Beethoven,  6,  61,  170. 

Beginning,  in  form  99,  101  ; music, 
in;  oratory,  1 1 2. 

Bethany,  43. 

Beverley  Minster,  235,  241,  264. 
Blanc,  Charles,  39,  132,  204,  224, 
280. 

Blindness,  Sonnet  on,  166. 

Bonheur,  A.,  255. 

Boris,  Tower  of,  124,  239,  241. 
Boticelli,  297. 

Breadth,  132,  136,  192,  213,  216  ; 

architecture,  218  ; sculpture,  218. 
Breton,  Jules,  32,  83. 

Brittany  Washerwomen,  83. 

Brown,  W.,  165. 


Browning,  B.,  36,  57,  229,  272, 
273  ; E.  B.,  230. 

Brunswick,  294,  295. 

Bryant,  W.  C.,  53,  107. 

Burns,  59 

Bussler,  L.,  250. 

By  the  North  Sea,  64,  271,  272. 

Cadences,  25,  198,  213. 

Campanile,  89. 

Campbell,  137. 

Carnpo  Santo,  Pisa,  297. 

Canal,  1 r 5 , 1 18,  156,  157,  158,  159, 
172,  238. 

Cana,  Marriage  at,  83. 

Cannon,  232. 

Canopy  over  statue,  122. 

Canova,  120. 

Canterbury,  261,  262  ; Cathedral, 
18,  89,  go,  124,  207,  261. 

Capitol,  120. 

Cardeha,  San  Pedro  de,  295, 
296. 

Carthage,  Decline  of,  16,  31,  82, 
x 1 8,  156,  159,  172,  175,  238. 

Casa  d’Alba,  117. 

Catacombs,  Chapel  in,  259,  262. 

Cathedral,  238  ; English,  298  ; 
American,  92-95  ; ground  plan 
of,  95.  See  St.  and  Church. 

Cattle,  16,  158,  172,  173. 

Cavalry  song,  102. 

Central  Congregational  Church,  22, 
23,  189,  208. 

Central-point,  131,  151-187,  192, 
209,  212,  216,  220,  239,  266,  267, 
278,  284. 

Chaldea,  201. 

Change.  See  Variety,  Alteration. 

Chapel,  in  catacombs,  259,  262  ; 
Sistine,  30. 

Chart  of  methods  of  art  composi- 
tion, 1 3 1. 

Chateau,  at  Montigny,  31,  37,  77, 
7S,  121,  221,  222,  235  ; de  Ran- 
dau,  124,  180,  258,  262. 

Chatham,  Lord,  29. 

Chiaroscuro,  214.  See  Light  and 
Shade. 

Chiaravalle,  Tower  of,  240,  241. 

Chinese,  264. 

Chord,  30,  in,  170,  234,  245.  247, 


INDEX. 


303 


248,  251,  253,  274,  275  ; like  with 
like,  250,  274. 

Chorus,  55,  195. 

Christ,  Scourging  of,  72. 

Church,  90,  92  ; suggested  plan  of, 
92-95. 

Circle,  or  Circularity,  159.  See 
Curvature. 

Clan  Alpin,  Song  of,  58. 

Classification,  artistic,  8,  10,  15,  22, 
125-131  ; basis  of  knowledge,  6, 
7 ; scientific,  7,  15,  22,  39,  44,  98, 
125-130. 

Claude  Lorraine,  31,  119,  146,  156, 
172. 

Climax,  112,  212,  213. 

Cloud,  The,  24. 

Coblentz,  Old  Bridge  at,  48,  159, 
174,  203. 

Co-ca-che-lunk,  26. 

Coleridge,  24. 

Cologne  Cathedral,  6,  17,  18,  87,  90, 
190,  207,  291. 

Color,  5,  16,  26,  32,  43,  72,  83,  118, 
120-144,  156,  189,  204,  213-2x7, 
219,  22r,  245,  246,  249,  251,  254- 
256,  268,  278,  279  ; balance,  83  ; 
form,  118  ; principality,  72. 

Come  when  I sleep,  106. 

Comparison,  3,  4,  15,  16,  18,  24,  26, 
33.  46,  53,  99,  i2~6<  128-134,  136, 
148,  166,  189,  T90,  200-204,  206, 
216,  242-245,  254-258,  266 

Complement,  33,  45,  46,  50,  61,  64, 
65,  69,  79-84,  85,  90,  101,  127- 
131,  134,  136,  142,  154,  155,  185— 
209,  222,  256,  268. 

Complexity,  32,  97,  125-131,  134. 

Complication,  131,  132,  192,  209, 
222-242,  268. 

Composition,  Table  of  methods  of 
art-,  I3r. 

Comprehensiveness,  131,  136-149, 
209,  268. 

Conception,  representation  of,  gen- 
eral, 10,  14,  44,  45,  125,  133,  134, 
164,  189  ; symmetry  of,  155.  See 
Themes. 

Concord.  See  Consonance. 

Confusion,  36-39,  97,  125-132,  134, 
192,  220,  242,  249,  264. 

Congruity,  46,  128,  131,  134-149, 


150,  152,  155,  168,  183,  188,  192, 
206,  209,  216,  243,  266. 

Consistency,  132.  See  Massing. 

Consonance,  46,  128-131,  134,  137, 
144,  150,  162,  188,  243-265,  266, 
284. 

Continuity,  130,  172,  178,  192,  209, 
222-242,  270,  276,  277. 

Contour,  43,  44,  50,  no,  115-118, 
120-124,  153,  154,  159,  161,  172, 
186,  269,  284,  285. 

Contrast,  22-37,  138-142,  148,  180, 
189,  190,  209,  256,  268. 

Convergence,  152. 

Conversion  of  St.  Paul,  The,  72, 

Corps,  Legislatif,  Paris,  280. 

Corot,  118,  156,  159,  172,  174,  222, 
223,  234,  238,  255. 

Correggio,  16,  72,  120,  214,  215. 

Counteraction,  33,  37,  39,  40,  42,  45, 
46,  50,  97,  125-131,  134,  136,  192, 
209,  222,  242,  249. 

Crabb,  220. 

Cristabel,  24. 

Critic,  Destructive,  259 

Criticism,  Essay  in,  136. 

Cross,  Descent  from,  16,  72,  73,  80, 
144,  190,  214,  235,  257. 

Cupid  and  Psyche,  120. 

Curvature,  curves,  no,  115-118, 
120,  124,  148,  154,  159,  174,  176, 
186,  265,  280-287. 

Dtedalus,  236. 

Dancer,  The,  16,  144,  182,  183,  257. 

Dannat,  W.  T.,  255. 

Davis,  C.  II.,  255. 

Death  of  Ananias,  72,  144,  257,  287, 
297- 

Decline  of  Carthage,  16,  31,  82,  118, 
156,  159,  172,  175,  238. 

Della  Sedia,  Madonna,  117. 

Del  Passegio,  Madonna,  115. 

Departure  of  swallow,  105. 

Descent  from  Cross,  16,  72,  73,  80, 
144,  190,  214,  235,  257. 

Desdemona,  29,  72,  174. 

Deserted,  House,  The,  107  ; Village, 

137. 

Design,  241,  258,  287.  See  Themes. 

Development  of  arts,  4,  5 ; of  idea, 
10,  18,  297. 


3©4 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


Diana,  75,  85,  120. 

Dignity  in  Architecture,  77,  87,  187. 
Digression,  164. 

Discobolus,  83,  85. 

Discord.  See  Dissonance. 
Dissonance,  131,  162,  247-268. 
Dobson,  63. 

Doggett,  K.  N.,  280. 

Dome,  76,  77,  87,  go. 

Dominant,  254,  275. 

Domenichino,  116. 

Door,  75. 

Doorway  of  church  in  Jak,  180,  289, 
291  ; in  Khorsbad,  201. 

Doric,  146. 

Drama,  29,  54. 

Drawing,  Elements  of,  69,  130,  160, 
203,  216. 

Drift,  232,  234. 

Duration,  130,  131. 

Dutt,  T.,  106. 

Edbrooke,  G.  H.,  92,  241. 

Edgar,  138. 

Edison  Building,  21,  22,  189,  208. 
Edwards,  Miss,  70. 

Effects,  The,  considered  in  science 
and  art,  7,  8. 

Egypt,  Egyptian,  70,  204. 

Ein  Feste  Burg,  66. 

Elaboration,  5,  20,  164. 

Elevation,  front  and  side,  238,  241. 
Ellipsis,  36. 

Elocution,  1 12,  1 13. 

Emerson,  R.  W.,  220. 

End,  Beginning,  middle,  and,  99, 
101,  hi,  112. 

Enoch  Arden,  137. 

En  Route,  231. 

Entombment,  The,  214. 

Epic,  50,  53. 

Epistle,  272. 

Eros,  30,  31,  186. 

Essay  on  Criticism,  136. 

Evening,  31,  118,  119,  146,  156,  172. 
Everett,  113,  220. 

Even  numbers,  79,  96. 

Exeter  Cathedral,  236,  238,  241,  264. 
Extension,  130,  131. 

Expression  of  artist’s  thought,  9 ; for 
expression’s  sake,  4.  See  Themes. 
Ezekiel,  116. 


Fairy  Queen,  137. 

Fanny,  To,  107. 

Farewell,  107. 

Farnese  Palace,  263,  265  ; Tauro, 
120. 

Faun,  Reposing,  120. 

Faust,  109. 

Feeling,  representation  of,  2,  3,  5, 
18. 

Feet  in  metre,  16,  63,  189,  195. 

First  principles  of  symmetrical 
beauty,  284. 

Fishermen,  The,  107. 

Florence,  74,  75,  144. 

Foot.  See  Feet. 

Form  in  art,  40,  63  ; color,  44,  118  ; 
developed  from  theme,  10,  50,  63, 
134,  189;  expression,  45,  134; 
for  form’s  sake,  4,  5 ; French,  of 
verse,  55-62,  107,  195  ; in  music, 
periodic,  no;  in  nature,  5,  11, 
12,  45  ; in  poetry,  100-109,  195, 
230;  through  sound,  169.  See 
Organic. 

Fortress,  Romans  Besieging  a Ger- 
man, 16,  26,  27,  174,  182. 

Fortuna,  120. 

Fortuny,  255. 

Foster,  59. 

Foundation  in  architecture,  122. 

French,  Forms  of,  verse,  55-62,  107, 
195- 

Fret,  Greek,  200. 

Ganymede,  120. 

Gardener’s  Daughter,  137. 

Gate  of  Palace,  Nancy,  76,  218, 
219  ; Serrano,  47,  48,  79,  87,  96. 

Gay,  25,  272. 

German  Captive,  176,  177,  182, 

257- 

Gerome,  16,  30,  72,  80-82,  144, 
172,  179,  182,  217. 

Gertrude  of  Wyoming,  137. 

Gilbert,  139,  141. 

Gimbel,  C.,  59. 

Go,  lovely  rose  ! 105. 

Gossip,  265. 

Gothic,  17,  89,  144,  146,  206,  207, 
242,  298. 

Gozzoli,  B.,  297. 

Grace  in  architecture,  187. 


INDEX. 


305 


Gradation,  131,  132,  149,  249,  250, 
256,  266-289  ; in  nature,  266,  268  ; 
phonetic,  271. 

Graeco-Roman,  18. 

Grammar  of  painting  and  engrav- 
ing, 280. 

Granet,  F.  M.,  256. 

Grant,  J.  C.,  56. 

Grave,  The,  57. 

Greek,  Greeks,  137,  176  ; in  archi- 
tecture, 16,  87,  89,  96,  146,  176, 
206,  207,  261,  286  ; in  sculpture, 
2S6. 

Group-form,  35. 

Grouping,  11,  35,  44,  69-96,  98- 
124,  131.  See  Organic  Form  and 
Massing. 

Goethe,  137. 

Goldsmith,  137. 

Gough,  J.  B.,  1 13. 

Guido,  1 16. 

Hamlet,  6,  29,  36,  54,  log,  138, 
163,  212. 

Harmony,  29,  33,  129,  130,  131, 
170,  189,  204,  232,  234,  243,  244, 
249,  252,  253,  256,  257,  265,  268, 

273-275,  300. 

Harmony,  Elements  of,  250. 

Hay,  D.  R.,  285. 

Help,  Law  of,  132,  246. 

Henry  II.  Receiving  Crown,  15,  72, 
189  ; V.,  29  ; IV.,  211. 

Henry’s  missal,  72. 

Herculaneum,  75. 

Hermann  und  Dorothea,  137. 

History  of  Moses,  The,  297. 

Holy  Family,  The,  120. 

Holy  Night,  The,  16,  72,  80,  120, 
190,  214,  215,  257. 

Homer,  53,  197. 

Home,  Sweet  Home  ! 55. 

Home  they  brought,  etc.,  107. 

House,  Plan  of  small,  84,  85,  96, 
124,  187. 

How  they  brought  the  good  news, 
etc.,  57. 

Howe,  J.  W.,  200. 

Howitt,  W.,  105. 

Hugo,  V.,  106. 

Human  figure.  The,  and  human 
head,  285. 


Idea,  progress  of,  represented  in 
space,  297,  298.  See  Themes. 
Idyls  of  the  King,  54,  137. 

Iffly  Church,  90,  92,  124. 

Iliad,  53,  109. 

Imagination  the  source  of  art,  18 
Imitation,  3,  4,  10. 

Impannata,  Madonna  del,  117. 
Improvement  possible  in  art,  206. 
Incongruity,  135-149,  209,  268.  See 
Congruity. 

Incongruous,  155. 

Indian  summer,  The,  62. 

Infinito,  165 
In  Memoriam,  58,  271. 

Interchange,  131,  243,  247,  250,  268, 
274,  275,  280. 

Interspersion,  131,  192,  209,  216, 
220-242,  268. 

Intimations  of  Immortality,  Ode,  273. 
Intonation,  3. 

Investiture  of  a bishop  by  a king, 
48,  79,  80. 

Ionic,  146. 

Italian  Scenery,  144  ; towers,  291. 
Italians,  185. 

Jak,  Doorway  in  church  at,  180, 
289,  291. 

Japanese  compositions,  46,  161. 
Jones,  Bolton,  255. 

Kaulbach,  116,  242. 

Keats,  137. 

Key,  29,  55,  170,  245,  250,  253, 
254,  274,  275. 

Keynote,  170,  171,  247,  248. 
Khorsbad,  Ornamental  doorway  at, 
201. 

Kingsley,  C.,  107,  198. 

Kitty  of  Coiraine,  107. 

Koran  case,  Ancient,  37, 38,  224. 
Kremlin,  Tower  in,  239. 

Kyrielle,  56. 

Laban,  67. 

La  Belle  Jardiniere,  116. 

Lady  Clara  Vere  de  Vere,  271. 
Laertes,  138. 

Landscape,  221,  222,  226,  227;  with 
water,  118,  156,  172,  174,  222 
223,  234. 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


306 

Language,  3 ; plain  and  figurative, 
2S,  29. 

Laocoon,  The,  120,  1S2,  204,  226, 
235,  238. 

La  Soir,  255. 

Lear,  King,  29,  54,  139,  228. 

Leaves  illustrating  principality,  sub- 
ordination, complement,  69. 

Leaves  of  Grass,  21. 

Leda,  74,  75,  85,  179. 

Legend  of  a Shirt,  230. 

Lerolle,  H.,  118. 

Lied  der  Freiheit,  25. 

Light  and  shade,  32,  33,  72,  11S, 
\ 20,  144,  1 5 1 , 156,  172,  210,  213, 
214-217,  221,  255,  256,  268,  269, 
278,  279. 

Like  with  like,  7,  9,  10,  11,  15,  16, 
18,  20,  26,  28,  53,  59,  64,  126,  134, 
137,  140,  144,  148,  1 5 T , 166,  170, 
183,  189,  190,  195-200,  204,  206, 
210,  242,  244,  245,  246,  250,  251, 
254-256,  274,  275. 

Like  with  unlike,  20,  22,  45,  127, 
igo,  208.  See  Like  with  Like. 

Lines,  in  metre,  16,  24,  54,  61,  62, 
65,  107,  167,  169,  170,  189,  195, 
198,  230,  232,  233,  251,  253  ; in 
shape,  32,  42-44,  50,  82,  ns- 
117,  1 5 1 , 154-161,  169,  172,  180- 
182,  185,  189,  194,  196,  224,  226, 
227,  230,  233,  238,  239,  261,  262, 
269,  279-285,  287,  289,  291, 

299. 

Lohengrin,  Overture,  in. 

Longfellow,  103,  272. 

Lorraine,  Claude,  31,  119,  144,  146, 
156,  172. 

Louvre,  The,  74,  75,  179  ; The  Old, 
186,  187. 

Love’s  Silence,  168. 

Lucca  Madonna,  72,  185. 

Luther,  66. 

Lyons,  87  ; Palace  of  Justice  at,  85. 
See  St.  Nizier. 

Lyric,  50. 

Macbeth,  163,  164. 

Madonnas,  72,  116,  117. 

March,  A,  221  ; to  Moscow,  212. 

Market  of  Athens,  79,  120-123,  289. 

Marr,  C.,  255. 


Marx,  274. 

Mason,  L.,  43,  65,  67. 

Massing,  74,  120,  209-222,  226,  266, 
267,  278. 

Material  considerations  in  art,  40, 
133- 

Matter,  relation  to  art,  1,6,  g,  14, 

125,  127- 

Matthews,  B.,  231. 

Measures.  See  Metre. 

Melody,  16,  25,  33,  50,  59,  64,  170, 
198,  232,  233,  253,  273,  274. 

Memphis,  70. 

Merchant  of  Venice,  29. 

Mercury,  75,  76,  85,  120. 

Metaphors,  5 ; mixed,  36  , parallel- 
ism, 166. 

Methods  of  art,  6 ; Table  of  those  of 
composition,  131. 

Methuen,  Epistle  to,  272. 

Metopes,  201. 

Metre,  16,  42,  54,  55,  61,  64,  67, 
68,  169,  170,  198. 

Metropolitan  Museum,  N.  Y.,  30, 
33,  83,  118,  255,  256. 

McCarthy,  J.  PI.,  56. 

Middle,  The  beginning  and,  in  form, 
99,  no,  112. 

Miller,  M.  M.,  108. 

Millet,  144,  145. 

Milton,  J.,  53,  166,  221,  253. 

Mind,  Representation  of,  in  art,  2, 
3,  5,  9,  10,  14,  15,  22,  125,  127, 
233- 

Missionary  Hymn,  65. 

Mithras  Stabbing  the  Bull,  74,  120, 
179,  180,  218. 

Modern  painters,  282. 

Modulation,  29.  See  Transition. 

Monkhouse,  C.,  232. 

Monks  in  oratory,  256. 

Monotony,  30,  198,  249. 

Montgomery,  57,  104. 

Montigny,  Chateau,  31,  37,  77,  78, 
124,  221,  222,  235. 

Moore,  T.,  168. 

Moor,  Moorish,  144,  238. 

Morris,  W.,  53. 

Mors  et  Vita,  108. 

Moscow,  Kremlin,  239  ; Retreat 
from,  212. 

Mosques,  77,  86,  90. 


INDEX. 


Mozart,  25,  67. 

Murillo,  120. 

Museum,  British,  29-31,  182-184  i 
New  York  Metropolitan,  30,  33, 
83,  11S,  255,  256  ; Uffizi,  144. 
Music,  art  of  : abruptness,  274  ; al- 
teration, 25,  rg8  ; alternation, 

198,  199  ; balance,  complement, 
33.  50,  64-68,  171  ; central  point, 
170;  comparison,  15,  16,  134,  189, 
242-245  ; complication,  233  ; con- 
fusion, 37,  39  ; congruity,  135, 

141,  142  ; consonance,  243-251, 

253,  254,  256  ; continuity,  234, 
277  ; contrast,  29,  30,  33,  141, 
142  ; counteraction,  33,  40,  42, 
64-68  ; dissonance,  249,  250,  253, 

254,  256  ; gradation,  273-275  ; 

interchange,  250,  274  ; inter- 

spersion,  221,  232  ; like  with  like, 
9,  10,  15,  16,  59,  64,  134,  141, 
170,  1S9,  198-200,.  244,  245,  250, 
274,  275  ; massing,  213  ; organic 
form,  109,  no,  in  ; origin  of,  3— 
5 ; parallelism,  170,  171  ; princi- 
pality, 50,  59-61  ; progress,  274, 
276,  277  ; repetition,  199,  200, 
244,  245,  250  ; setting,  153,  170  ; 
symmetry,  171  ; theme,  develop- 
ment of,  3,  4,  6,  43,  50,  59,  109- 
in,  133,  141,  170,  171,  189,  198, 

199,  210,  213,  232,  233  ; transi- 
tion, 250,  274,  275  ; unity,  52, 
no,  hi,  142,  171  ; variety,  see 
Contrast. 

Musical  composition,  274. 

Nancy,  Gate  of  palace,  76,  21S,  219. 
Napoleon  III.  in  Italy,  230. 

Nature  conditioning  art,  2,  5,  10, 
11,  14,  22,  36,  50,  98,  99,  in, 
115,  120,  122,  127,  129,  135,  137, 

142,  144,  148,  154,  156,  159-161, 
172,  176,  178,  186,  192-194,  214, 
219,  221,  226,  238,  258,  264,  268, 
269,  279,  281,  284,  287  ; represen- 
tation of,  in  art,  3-6,  12,  14,  18, 
20,  144  ; true  to  itself,  202,  203, 
226,  227. 

Nebo,  Bust  of,  183,  184. 

New  London,  193. 

Night,  104. 


307 

Nile,  Thousand  miles  up  the,  70. 
Niobe,  Sculptured  group  of,  16,  144, 
146,  204,  257,  298. 

Nocturne,  107,  221. 

Norman,  50,  298. 

Notes,  Musical,  194,  198,  213,  244- 
246,  253,  254. 

Odd  numbers  in  art,  80,  96. 
Odyssey,  53. 

Old  Black  Joe,  59,  170. 

Old  bridge  at  Coblentz,  48,  159, 
174,  203. 

O Mary,  go  and  call  the  cattle 
home,  107. 

Ophelia,  29,  138. 

Oratory,  Organic  form  of,  in. 
Order,  34-37,  97,  131,  133,  *34, 
142,  149,  150,  180,  183,  192,  220, 
222,  241,  242,  287,  297. 

Organic  form,  98-124,  130,  131, 

134,  155,  160,  167,  169,  186,  266, 

268. 

Organism.  See  Organic  Form. 
Organ  recital,  118. 

Oriental,  77. 

Ornament  in  art  and  dress,  39,  132, 
204,  224. 

Ornament,  earliest,  200. 

Othello,  picture,  72,  174,  181,  239  ; 

play,  29,  163,  229. 

Outlines,  5,  26,  43,  50,  72,  115-120, 
154,  158,  159,  172,  178,  180-183, 
217,  224-242,  246,  262,  264,  268, 

269,  281,  284-295,  299. 

Oval,  117,  159.  See  Contour,  Curv- 
ature. 

Painting,  abruptness,  269,  279  ; 

alteration,  26,  202,  204,  255  ; 
alternation,  194,  202-204  : bal- 

ance, complement,  counteraction, 

33,  43_48,  79-84,  256  ; central- 
point  and  radiation,  1 51-154, 
156-161,  172-174,  284;  compari- 
son, 15,  16,  18,  26,  134,  144,  189, 
200-204,  254-257  ; complication, 
222,  224,  234,  235  ; confusion, 

34,  37-39,  242  ; congruity,  134, 
144-149,  183  ; consonance,  246, 
249,  251,  254-257;  continuity, 
172,  224-227,  234,  235,  23S,  242; 


3°8 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


contour,  44,  50,  115-118,  153, 

159,  161,  172  ; contrast,  22,  26, 
28,  32,  33,  14S,  180;  curvature, 
43,  115,  117,  159,  174,  280-286; 
gradation,  235,  256,  269,  278-287  ; 
interchange,  251  ; interspersion, 
221,  222,  234,  235  ; like  with  like, 
9,  10,  15,  16,  18,  26,  134,  144,  151, 
183,  189,  204,  210,  242,  246,  254- 
256;  massing,  72,  74,  210,  213-217  ; 
order,  26,  34,  1 14,  115,  202,  204, 
242;  organic  form,  98,  115-120; 
origin  of,  4-6  ; parallelism,  151, 
159-161,  180-183,  222>  287  ; pic- 
turesque, 222,  234  ; principality, 
45,  48,  50,  70,  72,  172,  179,  210, 
214  ; progress,  297,  298  ; repeti- 
tion, 16,  134,  144,  189,  200,  202, 
203,  246,  254-256  ; setting,  153, 
179,  180;  symmetry,  115,  131, 
154,  156,  183,  185,  186;  theme, 
development  of,  4,  5,  6,  10,  44, 
50,  72,  115-120,  133,  142,  144, 
148,  153,  172,  173,  185,  189,  194, 
202,  210,  213-217,  221,  238,  246, 
297  ; tone,  204,  250,  254-256  ; 
transition,  256,  269,  285  ; unity, 
39,  117,  144,  172,  226,  246,  255, 
256  ; variety,  see  Contrast. 

Pantoum,  231. 

Palace  of  Justice,  Lyons,  85,  87,  96, 
261. 

Paradise,  82. 

Paradise  Lost,  53,  54,  109,  221. 

Parallelism,  131,  151-187,  202,  222, 
239.  257>  261,  262,  268. 

Paris,  50. 

Parish  register,  221. 

Parliament,  Plouses  of,  76,  78. 

Patience,  139,  221. 

Payne,  PL,  55;  J.,  196. 

Perspective,  Laws  of,  158,  176,  286  ; 
in  nature,  158. 

Philosophy,  relation  to  classification, 
7,  8. 

Phonetic  gradation,  271. 

Phrase,  16,  50,  54,  62,  65,  107,  183, 
195,  197,  274. 

Piankli  Receiving  Submission,  etc., 
70,  189. 

Picturesque,  222,  234. 

Pisa,  297. 


Pitch,  40,  130,  131,  210,  244,  245, 
261,  270,  273,  274. 

Poe,  50. 

Poetry,  Art  of  : abruptness,  272,  273  ; 
accent,  42,  130,  131,  169,  171,  194, 
195,  198,  251,  271  ; alliteration, 
16,  195,  251  ; alteration,  24, 

139,  198  ; alternation,  63,  195, 
198  ; assonance,  16,  195  ; balance, 
complement,  33,  50,  61-63,  68, 
169,  101  ; central-point,  152,  153, 
163-166,  169;  comparison,  15,  16, 
18,  24,  53,  134,  166,  189  ; compli- 
cation, 228-232  ; confusion,  36, 
37,  39  ; congruity,  136-141  ; con- 
sonance, 244,  251-253;  continuity, 

238,  276  ; contrast,  22,  24,  25,  29, 
33,  138-141  ; counteraction,  33,  40, 
42,  61-63,  68  ; dissonance,  252  ; 
form,  40,  100-109  ; formlessness, 
20  ; gradation,  270-272  ; inter- 
spersion, 220,  228-232  ; like  with 
like,  9,  15,  16,  53,  134,  137,  166, 
189,  195-198,  210,  251  ; massing, 
210-212  ; organic  form,  100-109  ; 
origin  of,  3-5  ; parallelism,  166- 
169  ; phonetic  gradation,  271  ; 
principality,  45,  50,  52-59  ; prog- 
ress, 276,  277  ; repetition,  195- 
198  ; rhyme,  16,  55,  61,  189,  195, 
197,  198,  251  ; rhythm,  37,  54, 
130,  131,  169,  189,  198,  204,  230, 

239,  251,  271  ; setting,  153,  163, 
166,  169  ; theme,  development  of, 
3,  4,  6,  10,  44,  50,  53,  59,  100- 
109,  125-130,  133,  136-141,  151, 
152,  153,  163-168,  189,  194-199, 
210-212,  221,  228;  transition,  272, 
273  ; unity,  52,  54,  100-109,  137, 
141,  168  ; variety,  see  Contrast. 

Poetry,  picture,  116. 

Point,  152  ; vanishing,  158.  See 
Central-Point. 

Pollice  Verso,  81,  etc. 

Pope,  104,  136,  272. 

Porch,  75. 

Poutou  Temple,  18,  124,  207,  208. 

Presentiment,  107. 

Princess,  The,  58. 

Principality,  in  form,  44,  45,  48,  50, 
55-59.  69,  72,  76,  78,  9°.  97.  99. 
101,  126,  130,  131,  134,  142,  152, 


INDEX. 


309 


154,  158,  160,  172,  209,  214,  220, 
266,  267,  278  ; in  theme,  50,  53, 
54,  59,  61,  64,  72,  75,  76,  164. 
Product,  The,  of  art,  2,  5,  9 ; how 
developed  from  theme,  50.  See 
Themes. 

Progress,  131,  266,  268,  270,  276,297. 
Proportion,  84,  130,  131,  178,  184, 
185,  189,  205,  265,  286,  300. 
Propriety,  135. 

Psalms,  167. 

Public  Library,  New  London,  123, 
190,  193. 

Quadroon  Girl,  272. 

Quality,  273,  274. 

Radiation,  in  art,  72,  115,  152,  159, 
160,  156,  172-176  ; in  nature, 

160.  See  Central-point. 

Railroad  rhyme,  59. 

Randau,  Chateau  of,  124,  180,  258, 
262. 

Raphael,  6,  41,  72,  82,  116,  117, 
147,  148,  242,  257,  287,  297. 
Rathhouse,  Brunswick,  294,  295. 
Raven,  The,  50. 

Reformation,  The,  242. 

Refrain,  55,  195,  198. 

Religion,  relation  to  art,  2. 
Rembrandt,  120,  214,  219. 
Renaissance,  144. 

Repetition,  46,  62,  64,  hi,  128- 
132,  134,  144,  150,  189-208,  216, 
226,  243,  245,  256,  257,  266,  267, 

270,  284. 

Representation,  of  nature,  2,  6,  9, 
11,  12,  14,  202,  203,  226,  227;  of 
thought,  3,  9,  10.  See  Themes. 
Return,  Soldier’s,  16,  26,  174,  176, 
182,  257. 

Reynolds,  Sir  J.,  214. 

Rhyme,  16,  55,  61,  189,  195,  197, 
198,  251. 

Rhythm,  37,  54,  57,  130,  131,  169, 
189,  198,  202,  204,  230,  239,  251, 

271. 

Ring  and  the  Book,  229,  272,  273. 
Romanesque,  207. 

Romans  Besieging  German  Fortress, 
16,  26,  27,  174,  182. 

Rome,  77,  78,  263,  297. 


Rondeau,  108,  195,  196. 

Rondel,  56,  109,  195. 

Roof,  123,  124. 

Rose,  Go,  lovely,  105. 

Rouen,  124,  237,  241,  295,  298. 

Rubens,  16,  72,  73,  144,  214. 

Ruskin,  31,  32,  69,  122,  123,  131, 
160,  174,  203,  216,  219,  246,  282. 

Ruysdael,  144. 

Sacred  Heart,  Church  of,  18,  49,  50, 
190,  264. 

Salisbury  Cathedral,  18,  76,  90,  186, 
190,  206,  207,  261. 

San  Pedro  de  Cardena,  295,  296. 

Saxe,  190. 

School  of  Athens,  41,  242,  289. 

Science,  relation  to  art,  2,  7. 

Scollard,  C.,  56,  109. 

Scott,  Sir  W.,  58. 

Scourging  of  Christ,  72. 

Sculpture,  Art  of : abruptness,  269, 
285,  287  ; alteration,  26,  202  ; 
alternation,  194,  201  ; balance, 
complement,  counteraction,  33, 
43-48,  79,  84,  85  ; central-point, 
151,  158,  174-176;  comparison, 
15,  16,  18,  26,  134,  T44,  189,  200- 
204,  257  ; complication,  222,  224, 
234,  235  ; confusion,  37-39  ; con- 
gruity,  134,  144-146,  183  ; conso- 
nance, 246,  249,  257  ; continuity, 
224,  227,  234,  235  ; contrast,  22, 
26,  30,  33,  180  ; contour,  44,  120- 
122,  159  ; curvature,  43,  159,  280- 

286  ; gradation,  280,  282-286 : 
Greek,  286  ; interspersion,  227, 
235  ; like  with  like,  9,  15,  16,  18, 
26,  134,  144,  151,  183,  189,  204, 
210,  257  ; massing,  210,  217,  218  ; 
order,  26,  115,  204;  organic  form, 
98,  120  ; origin  of,  4,  5 ; parallel- 
ism, 151-159,  161,  180-183,  222, 

287  ; proportion,  286  ; principality, 
45.  50,  70,  74,  75,  .179,  210; 
progress,  298  ; repetition,  16,  134, 
144,  189,  204,  257  ; setting,  180  ; 
symmetry,  176,  183,  185,  186  ; 
theme,  development  of,  4-6,  44, 
50,  74,  75,  120,  122,  133,  144, 
174,  183,  189,  210,  221,  297; 
transition,  285. 


THE  GENESIS  OF  ART-FORM. 


IO 


Sehnsucht  nach  dem  Fruhling,  67, 
110. 

Senses,  lower,  6 ; higher,  126,  127. 
Sentence,  Organic  form  of,  100. 
Serrano,  Gate  of,  47,  48,  79,  87,  96. 
Setting,  1 3 1 , 161-1S0,  209,  268. 
Seventh,  chord  of,  254,  275. 

Shade.  See  Light  and  Shade. 

Shady  Side  Presbyterian  Church,  91, 
92,  96,  124,  186,  190. 
Shakespeare,  6,  10,  29,  36,  37,  139, 
163,  211,  212,  229,  252. 

Shanley,  107. 

Sharp,  W.,  195. 

Shelley,  24. 

Shepley,  Rutan  and  Coolidge,  91. 
Sherman,  F.  D.,  107. 

Sidney,  Sir  P.,  168. 

Sienna,  Cathedral  of,  18,  87,  207, 
261,  291,  292. 

Sight,  expression  in,  6,  43. 

Sigurd  the  Volsung,  53. 

Simile,  5,  166. 

Sistine  Chapel,  30,  297  ; Madonna, 
116,  1 17. 

Smith,  H.,  107. 

Snowflake  in  May,  log. 

Soldier’s  Return,  16,  26,  174,  176, 
182,  257. 

Soloman,  238. 

Song,  of  Clan  Alpine,  58  ; of  Italy, 
252. 

Sonnet  on  his  Blindness,  165. 
Sordello,  36. 

Sound,  causing  verse-form,  169  ; ex- 
pression in,  6,  40,  52,  168  ; grada- 
tion in,  269,  270  ; waves  of,  244, 
245- 

Southey,  212. 

Sower,  The,  106. 

Spanish  Lady,  255. 

Spencer,  H.,  4. 

Spirit,  Expression  of,  1,  40. 

St.  Agnes  Eve,  137. 

Star-Spangled  Banner,  55. 

St.  Botolph  Church,  260,  262. 
Stedman,  E.  C.,  102. 

St.  Hilaire  Church,  237,  241. 

St.  John,  picture,  116. 

St.  Loo  Cathedral,  234,  240. 

St.  Maclou  Church,  295,  298. 

St.  Mark’s  Church,  18,  77,  87,  88, 


90,  96,  124,  180,  186,  190,  207, 

261,  262. 

St.  Martyn’s  Church,  261,  262. 

St.  Michael,  picture,  116. 

St.  Nizier  Church,  22,  189,  205,  206, 

208,  261. 

Storm,  A,  144,  145. 

St.  Paul,  Conversion  of,  72. 

St.  Peter’s  Cathedral,  18,  77,  78,  87, 
96,  124,  186,  207,  265. 

St.  Sophia  Mosque,  18,  76,  77,  96, 
123,  124,  180,  187,  190,  207,  261, 

262. 

Styles  in  architecture,  146,  205  ; 
mixed,  146,  148,  149,  205-208, 
295  ; new,  206,  293, 
Subdominant,  254,  275. 
Subordination,  45,  48,  51,  59,  64, 
69,  90,  97,  99,  101,  126,  130,  131, 
134,  153,  158,  164,  179,  190,  209, 
249,  262. 

Suleymaniya  Mosque,  77,  86,  90. 
Sullivan,  139,  221. 

Swallow,  Departure  of,  105. 
Swinburne,  64,  252,  271,  272. 
Symmetrical,  184,  185. 

Symmetry,  46,  82,  89,  115,  154,  155, 

209,  224,  268,  284. 

Symphony,  221,  232  ; C Minor  No. 

v,,  61,  170. 

Table  of  methods  of  art  composi- 
tion, 131. 

Taj  Mahal,  18,  19,  77,  87,  96,  124, 
180,  186,  190,  207,  261. 

Take  them,  O Death,  103. 
Tannhauser,  142,  148,  221. 

Tauro  Farnese,  120. 

Teniers,  16,  82,  144. 

Tennyson,  58,  107,  137,  197,  271. 
Texture  by  color,  255. 

Thayer,  S.  IT,  165. 

Theatre,  designs  for,  22,  igo,  191, 
208,  261. 

Themes,  how  developed  into  form, 
3,  12,  14,  18,  20,  45,  50,  59,  61, 
76,  TOO,  IOI,  109,  126-130,  133, 

134.  137,  138,  142,  144,  154. 163, 

164,  167,  189,  202,  204,  206,  210, 
214,  217,  221,  228,  229,  232,  258, 
264. 

Theseus,  284,  285. 


INDEX. 


31 1 


Thought,  representation  of,  2,  3,  5, 
9,  14,  19,  52,  126,  189  ; in  archi- 
tecture, 76,  77. 

Thousand  miles  up  the  Nile,  70. 

Tides,  The,  107. 

Time,  16,  183,  273,  274,  297. 

Timon  of  Athens,  37. 

Tintoretto,  82. 

Titian,  72,  214. 

Titus,  74,  75,  85,  120,  180,  186,  289. 

Tomlinson,  W.  W.,  106. 

Tone,  color,  204,  256  ; sound,  189, 
204,  246,  250,  256  ; prime  and 
partial,  244-248. 

Ton-Halle,  Design  for,  22,  190,  191, 
208,  261. 

Tonic,  170,  254,  275. 

Tower,  76,  87,  89,  90,  92  ; of  Boris, 
239,  241  ; of  Chiavavalle,  240, 
241  ; with  ring,  31. 

Towers,  Italian,  291  ; gradation  in, 
289-291. 

Traditionalism  in  aft,  137,  146,  149, 
206,  293. 

Transfiguration,  The,  72,  82,  116, 
118,  147,  148,  257. 

Transition,  29,  131,  249,  250,  256, 
266,  269,  278-280. 

Triglyphs,  201. 

Triolet,  56,  63,  109,  195. 

Troyon,  C.,  16,  172,  173. 

Turner,  10,  31,  48,  82,  156,  172, 
174,  203,  238,  246. 

Twenty  years,  107. 

Twin  effects,  33,  40,  48,  78,  90. 

Twin  Villa,  77,  78,  123,  124,  1S7. 

Unities,  Law  of  the,  137. 

Unity,  15-18,  33-35,  37,  4&.  5L  97, 
99,  117,  125,  131,  134,  142,  168, 
172,  190,  197,  216,  220,  226,  238, 
241,  242,  249,  256,  265-267,  270, 
287,  299,  300 


Un  Quatuor,  255. 

Valentine,  107. 

Value  of  color,  255. 

Variations  in  music,  59,  64,  170. 
Variety,  22-37,  64,  97,  125,  131, 
134,  180,  186,  189,  190,  226,  249, 
281,  299. 

Vatican,  120,  176. 

Venice,  88  ; Stones  of,  122. 

Vere  de  Vere,  Lady  Clara,  271. 
Veronese,  Paul,  82,  83. 

Verse,  166;  blank,  54,  French,  Forms 
of,  55,  62,  107,  195. 

Verses  writ  in  an  album,  168. 

Vichy,  258. 

Village  Dance,  16,  82,  143,  144,  190. 
Villanelle,  195,  232. 

Ville  d’Avray,  255. 

Virgil,  53. 

Vitruvian  scroll,  200. 

Waddington,  S.,  108. 

Wagner,  ill,  142,  148,  221. 

Waller,  E.,  105. 

Walls,  122,  124. 

Washerwomen,  Brittany,  83. 
Wedge-shaped  contour,  117. 
Whitman,  21,  54. 

Whittier,  62. 

Winchester  Cathedral,  227,  240. 
Wind  and  Stream,  The,  107. 
Window  in  the  Alhambra,  37,  222, 
225,  236. 

Wings,  40,  48,  77,  82,  87. 
Winkleman’s  ancient  art,  174. 
Woodland  and  Cattle,  255. 
Wordsworth,  273. 

Wrestlers,  The,  75,  77,  85. 

Writing,  4. 

Zaragoza,  29O. 

Ziegler,  280. 


POEMS  BY  PROF.  GEO.  L.  RAYMOND 
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and  instruct  one  for  the  struggles  of  life.” — Hartford  Post. 

“ Marked  by  a fertility  and  strength  of  imagination  worthy  of  our  first  poets.  . . . The 
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“Original  and  noble  thoughts,  gracefully  put  into  verse.  . . . Mr.  Raymond  thoroughly 
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pulpit,  and  practised  by  every  one  behind  one,  would  transform  the  face  of  the  theological 
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get  4 A Life  in  Song,’  and  read  it.” — Unity. 

44  The  poet  has  4 a burden’  as  conscious  and  urgent  as  the  prophet  of  old.  His  is  a 
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vealed a metrical  genius  of  the  highest  order.”—  The  Watchman. 

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44  Fine  and  strong,  its  thought  original  and  suggestive,  while  its  expression  is  the  very 
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44  Proves  beyond  doubt  that  Mr.  Raymond  is  the  possessor  of  a poetic  faculty  which  is 
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44  A very  thoughtful  study  of  character  . . . great  knowledge  of  aims  and  motives.  . . . 
Such  as  read  this  poem  will  derive  from  it  a benefit  more  lasting  than  the  mere  pleasure  of 
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44  Mr.  Raymond  is  a poet  emphatically,  and  not  a scribbler  in  rhyme.” — Literary 
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Raymond’s  power  is  above  all  that  of  psychologist,  and  added  thereto  are  the  richest 
products  of  the  imagination  both  in  form  and  spirit.  The  book  clearly  discloses  the  work 
of  a man  possessed  of  an  extremely  refined  critical  poise,  of  a culture  pure  and  classical, 
and  a sensitive  conception  of  what  is  sweetest  and  most  ravishing  in  tone-quality.  The 
most  delicately  perceptive  ear  could  not  detect  a flaw  in  the  mellow  and  rich  music  of  the 
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44As  fine  lines  as  are  to  be  found  anywhere  in  English.  . . . Sublime  thought  fairly 

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44  There  are  countless  quotable  passages  in  Professor  Raymond’s  fine  verse.  . . . 

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44  . . ..  ‘Columbus’  one  finds  a work  which  it  is  difficult  to  avoid  injuring  with  ful- 

some praise.  The  character  of  the  great  discoverer  is  portrayed  grandly  and  greatly. 

. . . It  is  difficult  to  conceive  how  anyone  who  cares  for  that  which  is  best  in  litera- 
ture . . . could  fail  to  be  strengthened  and  uplifted.” — N.  Y.  Press. 

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OTHER  WORKS  BY  TROF.  GEO.  L.  RAYMOND 


The  Essentials  of  .Esthetics.  8vo.  Illustrated  . . Net,  $2.50 

This  work,  which  is  mainly  a compendium  of  the  author’s  system  of  Comparative 
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44  We  consider  Professor  Raymond  to  possess  something  like  an  ideal  equipment.  . . 

His  own  poetry  is  genuine  and  delicately  constructed,  his  appreciations  are  true  to  high 
ideals,  and  his  power  of  scientific  analysis  is  unquestionable.  . . . He  “was  known, 

when  a student  at  Williams,  as  a musician  and  a poet — the  latter  because  of  taking,  in  his 
freshman  year,  a prize  in  verse  over  the  whole  college.  After  graduating  in  this  country, 
he  went  through  a course  of  aesthetics  with  Professor  Vischer  of  the  University  of  Tu- 
bingen, and  also  with  Professor  Curtius  at  the  time  when  that  historian  of  Greece  was 
spending  several  hours  a week  with  his  pupils  among  the  marbles  of  the  Berlin  Museum. 
Subsequently,  believing  that  all  the  arts  are,  primarily,  developments  of  different  forms 
of  expression  through  the  tones  and  movements  of  the  body,  Professor  Raymond  made  a 
thorough  study,  chiefly  in  Paris,  of  methods  of  cultivating  and  using  the  voice  in  both 
singing  and  speaking,  and  of  representing  thought  and  emotion  through  postures  and 
gestures.  It  is  a result  of  these  studies  that  he  afterwards  developed,  first,  into  his 
methods  of  teaching  elocution  and  literature”  (as  embodied  in  his  4 Orator’s  Manual’ 
and  1 The  Writer ')”  and  later  into  his  aesthetic  system.  . . . A Princeton  man  has  said 

of  him  that  he  has  as  keen  a sense  for  a false  poetic  element  as  a bank  expert  for  a 
counterfeit  note;  and  a New  York  model  who  posed  for  him,  when  preparing  illustrations 
for  one  of  his  books,  said  that  he  was  the  only  man  that  he  had  ever  met  who  could 
invariably,  without  experiment,  tell  him  at  once  what  posture  to  assume  in  order  to  rep- 
resent any  required  sentiment. ”-r~New  York  Tzjties. 

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The  Outlook  (N.  Y.) 

44  Dr.  Raymond’s  book  will  be  invaluable.  He  shows  a knowledge  both  extensive  and 
exact  of  the  various  fine  arts  and  accompanies  his  ingenious  and  suggestive  theories  by 
copious  illustrations.” — The  Scotsznan  (Edinburgh). 

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An  attempt  to  distinguish  Religious  from  Scientific  Truth  and  to  Harmonize  Chris- 
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Commissioner  of  Education,  says  that  it  is  sure  “ to  prove  helpful  to  many  who  find  them- 
selves on  the  border  line  between  the  Christian  and  the  non-Christian  beliefs”  ; and  Dr. 
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son. The  author  proves  conclusively  that  his  mind — and  if  his,  why  not  another? — can 
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Examiner , Chicago. 

44  It  is,  we  think,  difficult  to  overestimate  the  value  of  this  volume  at  the  present  critical 
pass  in  the  history  of  Christianity.” — The  Arena,  Boston. 

44  The  author  has  taken  up  a task  calling  for  heroic  effort;  and  has  given  us  a volume 
worthy  of  careful  study.  . . . The  conclusion  is  certainly  very  reasonable.” 

Christian  Izitelligencer , New  York. 

14  The  author  writes  with  logic  and  a 4 sweet  reasonableness’  that  will  doubtless  con- 
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This  Book  is  Due 


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